Face-planting and A&E.. Oh life.

Today’s been an interesting one. An achy, hungover one that ended with 3 hours in A&E. Thrilling.

I may possibly have face-planted the pavement last night. Fell out of my shoe and met the floor with various body parts. It was painful. And I now have a beautifully purple hip, a fairly mauve knee, scraped arms, and a hole in the leather jacket.. Massive fail on my part. Massive.

I then took a rehearsal today. Clutching coffee and sporting last night’s makeup. Yep, I was *that* classy girl on the bus. The one with bed hair and a slept-in jumper..

And finally I ended up in A&E. Actually the reason I ended up at the hospital isn’t all that interesting, and I felt like a massive fraud in comparison with the guy that had been hit by a car, the girl with appendicitis, and the man that had trapped his hand in an electronic dumbwaiter. Believe me, I felt massively lame sat next to them..

The wait was almost worth it when my foot was bandaged up by cute-doctor-”I’m-Owen-by-the-way”, who then proceeded to throw plaster tape at me with a “shh, they’ll never know”. Charming cute-doctor-Owen. Also have massive love for the housemates who came for a road trip to keep me company and brought inappropriate-for-the-hospital snacks. Bless their little hearts.

I do however feel it necessary to question the hospital on their inappropriate nature of road signs..

Seems a tad insensitive really..

Sometimes, only sometimes, I’m proud of things I do..

So, I maybe said a while back that I’m in an a capella choir. I say maybe, because I no longer remember most things I’ve said in done in the recent past – my mind is currently filled with the pretentious, aesthetically-pleasing mind of a drama-student-on-the-edge – so really I could’ve said I was a fish and I doubt I’d remember..

Anyway, I’m in this choir. And we sing occasionally. Last week was no exception, (actually that’s a lie, it was a massive exception because we actually got up on stage in pretty dresses – and suits) we sang our little hearts out. And we’re on the internet. It’s crazy.

Check it.. It’s fairly unexciting to begin with, but watch from 7.55 and we’ll embrace you with our vocal chords. Or something.

I’m the one in the really ridiculous (albeit insanely beautiful) shoes.

Mr. Men gatecrash Google..

It’s nice to be nice.

When I was a hell of a lot smaller than I am now, I never really understood how useful and important it is to know how and when to be nice to someone. My Uncle was a massive fan of the phrase “It’s nice to be nice”, and although I liked the ring to it, I didn’t really see it as a philosophy on how to live your life.. Not to say that I was a pint-sized-bitch, I just don’t think I ever consciously decided to be ‘nice’ per say.

Now however? Oh god, I deserve some serious gold stars for my nice-ness..

It’s been a stressful week. Week and a half. And it’ll no doubt be an even tougher 7 days this coming week. Exhaustion is familiar. Emotions are high. Food is a thing of the past. And tension is the new laugh. It’s the run up to our practical exam, needless to say, everyone is ready to snap.. And yet I’m finding tact, and the ability to remain calm and ‘nice’, is the toughest challenge.

There’s something remarkably intimate about theatre, especially as one of the performers: you spend such a large quantity of time with one another, and see each other at their best and worst moments. This is the same for a drama degree, to some extent. There is so much riding on us working as a group to create an incredible piece of work, and it can therefore, obviously, be stressful when people aren’t working to the same level or effort.

Now don’t get me wrong, our entire group is fab. All talented, all lovely, and all work exceedingly well together – which is actually surprising, I’d predicted more fireworks in that department. But it’s tough at this stage when everyone is exhausted, and stressed, and little things become massive issues. It’s at this point that remaining happy and calm and nice is essential..

I was directed to this site the other day, my housemate felt I could do with a smile, and it seems so fittingly perfect for what I’m trying to say. Little things, in all their glory, are what make each day special. I think it’s important to remember that, even when you’re ready to throw scalding coffee at someone, it’s nice to be nice..

Have a biscuit.

Why does time fly so fast..

It’s April. Already. In fact, it’s not even just April. It’s already over a week into April. I swear this year is going so ridiculously fast. Super fast.

Put it this way, I’ve been home for a fortnight. It doesn’t feel that way. Not in the slightest. And yet being home I’ve already discovered some brilliant (and not-so-brilliant) things about myself..

1. I still bake awesome cakes. Not that I doubted this, but y’know, when you usually make plain and simple fairy cakes it’s nice to branch out occasionally. So yes. The mocha cupcakes I’ve spent the entire evening concocting? Beautiful. If I do say so myself..

2. I would rather read for pleasure than work. Honest. Hence the fact that I ploughed through the 4 or 5 books put aside for ‘enjoyment’, and I’ve still only achieved 20-odd pages of Ulysses. It’s an absolute hoot.

3. Spotify is becoming the new facebook. In my life at least. I without a doubt spend 6 times as much time surfing through bands I’ve never heard before and creating new playlists than I do on that beauty of a book of face. Which is weird. Very weird. Not in a bad way though, it does after all lead on to..

4. ..The fact that talking about music is becoming a substitute for sleep. I still have disastrous sleep patterns, but at least now I spend time contemplating soulful lyrics and arguing about the beauty of French pop.

5. I like gin. In small doses. But..

6..I still talk too much when drunk. And tell too much. I’m not loud. I’m not lairy. But I do tend to talk. Bugger.

7. Despite owning at least 4 pairs already, when shoe shopping I still resort to converse. They’re low-tops, which is y’know a change, but still.. I should probably branch out at some point.

8. I hate Oxford on a Saturday. Regardless of the sun.

9. I drink less caffeine when I’m at home. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s more of a Brighton thing. Maybe I don’t wake up early enough to warrant it in Oxford. But yeah, it’s unusual..

10. My movie knowledge is still one of the worst things about me. STILL. Despite the fact that I’m a student and do nothing with my time. I still have the worst knowledge about films – classic ones at least. Ask me about Harry Potter, or any Audrey Hepburn film, and I’m your girl. But those must-see-before-you-die classics? Nuh-uh. Clueless.

11. It is still possible to waste an entire day watching tv re-runs. Admittedly it’s now more likely to be One Tree Hill, or Weeds. But only because the Charmed box sets are in Brighton.

12. The first ever dinosaur to be named and studied was found a few miles down the road from where I live. THIS FACT EXCITES ME SO DAMN MUCH. I’m probably still a child.

That time I fell out with Public Transport..

After panic attacks, being the ‘weirdo-on-the-train’, hours of delays, fatalities, a million bags, children with suitcases, an out-of-battery phone, and a whole tube of fruit pastilles, I’m avoiding public transport for a while..

Yesterday was quite honestly a nightmare. Picture the scene: -A hurricane of clothes decorating my room as I attempt to pack logically. -One MASSIVE suitcase plus 2 fairly heavy arm bags weighing me down as I trek half way across Brighton and up the mammoth hill to the station, I swear whoever built that place didn’t ever consider that people have to walk. With suitcases. -An exhausted, pale girl with too many bags slumped in a corner of the station unable to breathe or focus and trying not to cry (Hellooo Panic Attack, you beauty..). -A stupid amount of people on the trains that are normally empty at that time of day. -That fantastically insistent beeping of an iphone telling me it would like to die soon. StupidLackOfBatteryOnAnOtherwiseBeautifulPhone. -An hour and a half (at least) delay at Reading station, because somebody was hit by the train I should’ve been getting on. -*That* child with the bright pink suitcase who got between me and the train doors. Of the first rescheduled train back to Oxford. Thus preventing me from getting home for a good extra hour. Also making me feel as though I were essentially living ‘Sliding Doors’, and could have just missed a beautiful Scottish man, aka Mr John Hannah.. -And finally, sugar rush. From the banana & choc. chunk cakes with homemade-marshmallow icing I’d been chowing all morning, not to mention the entire tube of fruit pastilles I’d inhaled in a wacky attempt to curb the panic attack. There was a serious case of the sugar shakes going on..

Luckily, I managed to resist the urge to clobber the small child (and her pink suitcase) that prevented me from catching the closing doors of the train. Which is really probably a very good thing because I don’t think my stress headaches could deal with some sort of asbo/restraining order/formal complaint/arrest. But I mean seriously, let’s be honest, any day that begins as beautifully bright as yesterday was, and then has to be spent packing, is always going to be a failure.

It’s deadline week..

..Which, naturally, prompts me to blog instead. Oh life. Occasionally I question why I’m doing a degree, and then I realise that I actually really enjoy it. I just need to sort my life out and not leave work till the last minute, Every Bloody Time. Besides, I woke up this morning to an email full of photos from Guys and Dolls, and I did promise you pics, so clearly this is higher up the priority list than my essay. Clearly.

So, you know how I spent a good 20 hours the weekend before the show making stripper dresses? Well, prepare to be impressed.. (or even just pitying because seriously, hand-sewing velcro is a bitch.)

The Hotbox Girls

Yep. That’s right. The Director decided to tell me on the Saturday (first night was Tuesday) that he wanted fishtail ball gowns. With velcro down the front so that we could (tastefully) strip off to..

Who knew Primark corsets and Spanx shorts would ever equal "sexy"..

So considering that the last time I sewed I was 14. And making a wall-hanging thing. I was actually pretty damn impressed with the final dresses.. Even if I do say so myself (:

Anyway, now you’ve got your photo fix, and I’ve killed another hour of essay time. It’s a win-win situation really..

I’m playing catch-up. Bear with me..

Show week started with a broken shoe. Ironically, it ended with a pair of broken shoes. Different shoes, but a pair all the same. It’s also ended with a broken phone, broken camera (again), and potentially broken toe. So much broken..

Show week also happened to be a good few weeks ago now. I apologise. Writer’s block has indeed been occurring. It’s a sad time.

The run up to show week was an insane whirlwind of intense all-day rehearsals and being pulled in to create 8 stripper dresses. Yes. You heard right. Stripper dresses. Now, the last time I used a sewing machine I was 14. And I was making an interesting wall-hanging thing that wasn’t exactly ever going to turn out as a masterpiece. And yet I still managed to allow myself to be talked into making dresses. In fact, not just any dresses.. Ball gowns. With velcro-to-allow-for-easy-removal fastenings. Jesus. How do I get myself into these situations? Now worry yourselves not, there is absolutely no way I let these beautiful creations go un-remembered, photos will follow.. (:

Have just realised I haven’t even said what show was being performed in show week. OhMan. It was Guys and Dolls. And it were fab.

In other news, fashion week was, as always, fantastic. Aside from the fact that I yet again spent the week in broken shoes and had the most-retro-nokia-in-the-world hiding in my pocket (My beautiful iphone had a tragic accident involving a sink. It was a sad day.), I had a pretty awesome week. The Giles Deacon show hands down won ‘favourite’, with the collection containing some of the most incredible dresses I’ve ever seen.. Take for example, exhibit numero 1:

Such a drastic change from his collection last season:

Having said that of course, I became an instant fan last September when I saw those insane pom-pom hats. B-e-a-utiful.

Home Alone.

I always loved the Home Alone movies, they just seem to scream christmas (don’t worry, I’m not about to go off on another woo-christmas rant so soon. I know it’s only January..) but for some reason I haven’t seen either of them in forever. Hearing that Macaulay Culkin turned 30 recently creeped me out. I mean, really? He’s that age already? That makes me feel old. And I’m only 19, I have no need to be feeling old yet. Well, until I start worrying about bills and rent and stuff.. But that’s a whole other story. Not one for a gloomy and soggy monday evening.

Yes. It’s raining. Again. What a bloody surprise.. So, naturally, I gave up on the ‘going out’ plans. Admittedly this probably makes me a really bad friend as it was for a birthday celebration. But y’know what? After the lengthy day of rehearsing I’ve had? Clubbing in the rain did *not* sound like my cup of tea. In fact not even a cup of tea sounded like my cup of tea. I just wanted to get into the pjs and curl up with a book. In actual fact this didn’t happen. I mean, the pjs did, the curling up didn’t.

Instead? Well, instead I got cooking.. The housemates are both out, and the father bought me a new cupcake recipe book a couple of weeks ago, a) it was reduced to £3, and b) due to my ever growing obsession with the damn things, so I figured I’d give a new recipe a go.. OH. MY. LIFE. Primrose Bakery have rapidly become my new favourite how-to guide for the ultimate cupcakes. Seriously.. Jude Law is a fan. This alone makes me think they’re probably quite good, but having made their cakes? Blimey.

I actually altered the recipe tonight due to our lack of raspberry jam, but it turns out strawberry works just as good. Anyhow, check these out..

R = Rosemary. J = Jess (x2). For the record..

These are actually mini ones, I mean like super-tiny. They’re dead cute.

The Pirates of 42A present..

So the housemate had a birthday, as people tend to do, and we threw her a party, as also often tends to happen. I made a cake, again a regular occurrence, but decided to give it a piratey twist..

Yeah, I'm good..