sei molto cocciuta...

Now, because I chose to follow my pockets rather than my heart, I am not doing a degree in creative writing. You probably know this because you probably know me, and therefore know a little bit about me. I do know, however, that there are a few people dotted around the world who read this (yes, I'm as surprised as you are) who probably don't know much about me. Please bear in mind that this is not the original premise of the blog post, so feel free to join me in a couple of paragraphs' time if you already know all this about me.

My name is Anna Mary Morgan and I am eighteen years old. I currently study French and Italian at the University of Warwick. I am from Kidderminster which is a bit of a dive. It is near Birmingham which I think is an underrated city. I am half Welsh. My favourite food is goats' cheese, but I also like spinach very much. I put it in everything. I am vaguely vegetarian but I eat fish and I eat meat if I have no choice (for instance at someone's house if they haven't realised and have prepared a gourmet meal). Saying this, I have only eaten meat once since February. My favourite meat is lamb. My favourite film is probably Juno, but I like Lost in Translation a lot. I'm sad sometimes because some sad things have happened to me, but I'm lucky in lots of ways so I try not to let it bog me down. My favourite book is probably something Brontëish, but I haven't fallen in love with a book since I was pretty young and read 'Sophie Hits Six'. I'm not sure how I have friends. I don't like to purchase clothes or books online as much as physically going shopping, but I do it all the time anyway. I really like James McAvoy. I like old detective shows. Berlin is the place I like most in the world. So far. I really dislike foetuses. I am a socialist. I am frustrated by the fact that I'm still not fluent in French. I'm not frustrated by the fact that I'm not fluent in Italian because I started learning it four weeks ago. My favourite band is Bright Eyes. I would like to be either taller or shorter. I would like to be either blonder or more brunette. I would like to be either thinner or fatter. Oh, wait, I'd just like to be thinner. When at home, I live with my mum and my sister and my dog. I miss my dog much more than the other two. Death doesn't scare me. I like floral patterns, but I'm indifferent to flowers. But I like plants. I only fall for people I have no chance with. I always forget to take an umbrella out with me. It always rains on the days I've straightened my hair. I am a Christian, but I put Christian far too far down on this list. This should give you an idea of just how Christian I am. I used to drink, and then I didn't drink for a while, and now I drink a bit again. I don't know how to talk to human beings. I have had a sore throat for a week. This list has fallen into anarchy.

So there you have it, and to get back to my original point, I'm not doing a degree in which I have to write all that much. The other day, however, we had to come up with a dialogue between two people who meet randomly. This was mine:

Emma: Scusa, lavori qui?
Connor: No, ma Stefano lavora qui. È un ragazzo alto e ha i capelli biondi.
Emma: Non importa. Piacere, io mi chiamo Emma.
Connor: Io sono Connor. Piacere! Sei inglese?
Emma: No, sono polacca, di Varsavia.
Connor: Polacca? Davvero? Sei qui per studiare?
Emma: No, sono con un’amica; è una studentessa di medicina. Dove abiti?
Connor: Abito a Firenze
Emma: Ah sì? Che bello!
Connor: No, TU sei bella!
Emma: Grazie ma ho un ragazzo.
Connor: Allora, sei contenta?
Emma: Sì sono molto contenta
Connor: Va bene, però io sono speciale!
Emma: Sì, ma...
Connor: Vuoi venire al cinema domani?
Emma: Domani, parto per Roma!
Connor: Sei molto cocciuta! A presto!
Emma: A presto! Ciao!

I had SO much fun writing it that I feel a little ashamed. She said that it was the only one she enjoyed reading. I'm not sure why I made 'Connor' a bit of a twat.

Can I say 'twat' on here? If not, sorry.

A softer world; beautifully ridiculous.

living for the weekend...

I have a headache this morning. I blame gin.

According to Yvette Cooper, the astronomical cuts of our times will hit women twice as hard as they will hit men, which is a travesty considering that on the whole, we already earn much less. Childcare will no longer be an option, and women will be forced back into the home. Can't you just taste the regression?

Saturdays at university are somehow infinitely better than Sundays, even though the basic concept is the same. Nobody is really up yet (I think I got off easy last night), so I'm just sitting in my room, tidying sporadically and drinking tea whilst listening to Aqualung and writing this. What more could a girl want?

Because the Civil Service pension people made a killing from the premature death of my father, I get a bit of money every month. This is the reason I was able to quit the deathjob and go on my European adventure. They've stopped it now, though and will only start it again once I've proven that I am a genuine student. This means a trip to University House which is on the other side of campus, and my bed is so warm.

Warwick Labour is full of lovely people. I think I'll be going back.

I need to do some washing.

I'm not sure whether it's time for breakfast or lunch. I have an excellent (although I say it myself) chickpea curry in the fridge, but it doesn't really feel like savoury time yet. Then again, Weetos taste no good with skimmed milk. Nutella is usually the answer...

I saw Chiddy Bang in the union last night. I think the less said about this, the better.

ode to you.

How can you miss something you never had?

for richer, for poorer, in fiction and in wealth...

I have realised that when I make sweeping, unsubstantiated commentsin this blog, these comments are challenged and turned on their head (or just mocked) by the people who read this, resulting in me feeling a bit naive, or faintly amused at the intimidating intelligence of some of the people in my life. So yes, what I am trying to say (in the longest sentence ever) is that I need to be careful.

This is how I would usually start this post:

Now, as you know, I will never get married. I do not believe that the institution of marriage can offer me anything in my life. I am fiercely independent and I will never need a man to complete me. I am already whole. BUT, if I were to change my mind (though this is unthinkable), these men would probably be the only ones in the world that I could bear to marry.

...

So though I love writing ranty paragraphs, it may be time to refine my thought processes and write like a grown up. I probably shouldn't have chosen this post to try it, but nevertheless, here is my second effort...

I may never marry. Never say never, but I'm not sure it's really for me. In the words of Summer (of '500 Days of Summer' fame) "I just don’t feel comfortable being anyone’s girlfriend. I don’t actually feel comfortable being anyone’s anything". Now, replace the word 'girlfriend' with 'wife' and you're getting close to my way of thinking. I'm sure many people have happy, healthy marriages, but I don't really like making compromises or admitting that I am wrong. And I'm scared of foetuses. And foetus-presence is implied in the holy sacrament, etc, of marriage.

Nevertheless, there are a few people in this world (none of whom I have met) I believe I could put up with forever and ever:

• James McAvoy - The original, the best. Plus, he already seems to be making one marriage work, and therefore is an expert.
• Conor Oberst - It wouldn't be the most cheerful household ever, but we could have sad, gaunt children who would be musical prodigies and have weird eyes.
• Robert Webb - Mostly because of this (which I robbed shamelessly), partly because of this.
• Joseph Gordon-Levitt - He stole my heart when I first watched Ten Things I hate About You (I think I was 12) and I never really got it back.
  
• Jonny Lee Miller - He plays Mr Knightley in the good version of 'Emma' and is the master of twinkly eyed disapproval. He was married to Angelina Jolie, however who is stunningly beautiful and I'm... well... not.
  
• Auden - dead and gay. At least my taste is original...
• Remus Lupin.
• Simon Amstell.
• Atticus Finch.
• Bill Murray.
• John Hannah.

I feel like the last few need no explanation.

dirty pretty things...

Things I like about university:

• There are very few (if any) children here.
  
• Everyone is clever. Like. Everyone. This means you actually have to think about what you say in everyday conversation. Things said in Kidderminster might not make all that much sense here.
  
• The Guardian is half the regular price
• Contrary to popular belief, you can get away with not drinking all that much. When drunk, I am a pleb, so I haven't done it for a few months. It's a simpler life...
  
• There is a library of foreign cinema. This one pretty much explains itself.
• Ditto magazines.
• It's not far from home, so I can go back if I so choose (I don't, but I'm being hypothetical.)
• It's full of raving lefties. Last week, I stood for ten minutes while a man from the Socialist Worker Party told me that Communism was the way forward. He was so passionate, I didn't have the heart to disagree.
  
• When living on campus, everything is a five minute walk. Of course, it gets a little bit samey, but in theory, this is good. Also, there are ducks everywhere.
  
• My 'lecteur' who is named Thomas and is strangely appealing. Hard to say why...
  

In short, I could probably stay forever. I banned myself from updating during my first week, but as I have no television, I daresay you will be seeing much more from me. You lucky buggers...

a stash of blue ties...

I just spent half an hour sorting odd socks. Laugh all you want, but I found twenty pairs, so the joke's on you. Or maybe not on you, but on those lousy socks who just don't seem to want to stay together.

I have tomorrow in which to pack. I'm also getting my hair cut and going out in the evening, so the day will be pretty full, and I will be pretty stressed. Of course, I could have done it today but I went to the dentist and I bought a coat and I spent the evening in Stourbridge. With all the faffing that fell in-between, the day pretty much vanished. I did get as far as putting all my clothes haphazardly on my bed, but I couldn't get a case to put them in or anything because I'm always scared that if I go in the attic without somebody holding the ladder, it will slip and I will plunge down thirteen stairs to my death. It also means that my bed is occupied so I have nowhere to sleep. Troubling...

I went to the pub yesterday evening, but after I returned, I decided it would be fun to brush up on the ConDem cabinet (though I resent calling it this. 'Cabinet' implies a spirit of unity.) Aren't they a dismal lot? I pretty much googled each and every one and hated them all apart from William Hague and Vince Cable. Hague may be a big fat Tory, but he's intimidatingly bright, and that has to stand for something. Cable has a funny face, and I saw him at Cheltenham Literature Festival (he smiled at me as he was buying a hemp book bag). I do like him for other reasons besides his face, however. But not really. It's a good face.

George Osborne must be the worst. Just the very sight of him makes my skin crawl. He and Cameron both have this horrible smirk whenever they give an answer/lecture they are pleased with, and whenever they here the affirmative chorus of the back-benchers, most of whom seem to have barely changed since their days at public school. This is just speculation, of course. They might have come a long way since they were forced into that patriarchal, unnatural environment. But I doubt it...

Off to bed now.Where, I'm not quite sure, but I'm too tired to even drink my tea, let alone successfully ridicule our 'Government'. I might blog mid-pack tomorrow. Or would that be verging on sad/a waste of time? Sad/a waste of time could probably describe this whole blog Or life indeed. Wait, is that morbid?