in other news
I was just notified of an offer from the London School of Economics (LSE) to read for an MSc in Risk and Stochastics, originally my first choice of programme. The idea of being able to stay in London is indeed very tempting. However, I've already accepted the offer from Oxford for an MSc in Applied Statistics, as it was truly an offer I could not refuse...
the second that says so much
I saw Tongue this weekend.
Although eye contact lasted a mere split second, enough was communicated during it. If only I could adequately describe the expression on his face - there was first a flash of recognition, and then 'oh shit, it's her', followed by 'oh shit, I can't believe it's her', coupled with a generous dose of shock, guilt, and shame, and not knowing how the hell to react.
I said and did nothing. A month of moving on with my life had not prepared me for the sheer unexpectedness of what had happened, and in some ways, I'm still reeling from it. I feel a strange mix of discomfort and confusion. I had not expected him to say anything to me, and indeed he did not. He left shortly thereafter, having quickly diverted his gaze, pretending not to have seen me. Expressionless. Blank.
But it was enough. And the feelings contained in that moment were much more than what all of his text messages could have added up to saying.
I just wish I felt a bit better about it.
of spiders and poisoned meringues
I think I might have been hallucinating two nights ago. It was 3 am and I was lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, although not very successfully. I had my iPod on and suddenly I began noticing spiders on the walls - hundreds and hundreds of spiders. Now, I'm terrified of spiders, and seeing them all over my walls was not entirely comforting, so I stifled a scream, squeezed my eyes shut, and curled into little ball, pulling my covers tight round me.
It was then that I started thinking that I would not wake up alive. Earlier on in the day, I had bought a small tub of meringues at Marks & Spencer, and it wasn't until I got home that I realised that the tub's lid was slightly ajar - although the seal was still intact. I thought little of it, and ate one meringue, although this might not have been such a terrific idea at the time. When I was lying in bed, seeing spiders, I thought of the meringue. And then I thought - 'My God. The lid was ajar because the meringues were poisoned, and therefore I am going to die'. At that point I nearly got up to drink a litre (or two) of water, hoping to flush out any toxins there might have been in my body, but I didn't - there were spiders on the walls and I was too scared to move. I got a spooky feeling that I would not wake up alive - either due to the spiders or to the poisoned meringues - and my dying thoughts were as follows: 'Don't fall asleep. You won't wake up again. There are spiders coming to get you. The meringues have been poisoned. Don't fall asleep. Don't fall asleep. Don't fall...'
Then I reckon I did fall asleep. The following morning, I was rather amazed that I actually did wake up alive, and that there weren't any spiders on the walls. I promptly had another two meringues thereafter - just to make myself feel a bit better.
fake plastic greens
One of my latest obsessions comes courtesy of my aunt who has recently relocated to Japan - something that arrived unexpectedly in the post, in a little white box.
I can't tell you how much I love what was in that box. It was an adorable little plastic plant whose leaves gently move and bounce via solar powered battery. (Is that not the most brilliant invention ever?!) After recently killing - not intentionally - yet another houseplant, I was just about at wit's end, horrified at the thought of having to resort to cut flowers for the rest of my life (yawn).
Look at my baby - I feel like a proud new parent. 'Ooooohs', 'ahhhhs', and 'awwws' welcome.
answer by song title
Choose a band and answer only in song titles by that band:
Depeche Mode (couldn't resist)
Are you male or female? I'm a
Sister of NightDescribe yourself: The
Sweestest Perfection. I wish
How do some people feel about you? The
Happiest Girl they've ever known, apparently
How do you feel about yourself?
I Feel Loved, which is really quite lovely
Describe your ex: Hm.
It's No Good, Useless, See You, Shame, Shouldn't Have Done That etc
Describe your current boyfriend:
A Question of Lust applies to the last applicable male
Describe what you want to be: Doesn't everybody want to be
Somebody?
Describe your current mood:
Now This Is Fun - thanks J!
Describe your friends:
More Than A Party. And we have amazing parties
Share a few words of wisdom:
Never Let Me Down Again, if you know what's good for you
J, I'm not really a junkie am I? ;-)
'boom bam as i step in the jam, god damn'
Oh my word.
This had me giggling for ages.
I love how 'Carling Academy Brixton' has been renamed to 'Ho-slappin' Academy Brixton' and the Mean Fiddler has become the 'Mean Pimp' (we all knew it needed a better name). Yo yo. What up. Words is very unnecessary indeed.
birthday weekend
The weekend was brilliant. Z, White Teeth D and I spent £74 on food and drinks on Friday night, in preparation for the party. We gave the drinks, tealights (yes, we got tealights - 'a romantic dinner for 12' as D succinctly put it) and music a test run before the actual party - but ended up getting drunk and having an hour long discussion about foreplay and pillowfight/ticklefest. Boys. So immature.
My parents arrived on Saturday morning. It felt like I'd just seen them yesterday, but two months had already passed. How time flies. The afternoon was spent rushing about buying last minute items for the party, and worrying about why D wasn't picking up his mobile (I thought he had fallen asleep, thus forgetting about the party, or some related silly thought). I got ready in a hurry (black floaty top, nice denim, gold round toed shoes, and gold shell necklace), kissed my parents goodnight, and ran over to D's flat where guests started trickling in and we began getting the food an drinks ready.
It was a very fun party. But if you expect me to remember very much of it, you'll be disappointed. D's flat is gorgeous and modern, with a light dimming switch, so the tealights - of which there were about 60 - scattered round the flat added a lovely touch in conjunction with the French lounge music I'd brought over. I have no idea how we ended up at the bar later on that evening. It was a bar I'd definitely revisit, and it had a very clever one way frosted glass window in the toilets, which is extremely amusing when you're very drunk and very giggly. I have no recollection of how we ended up back at D's flat after deciding that it'd be more fun having a house party than going to more bars in Soho. Upon returning to the flat, there was some rather questionable behaviour of which there exists photographic evidence (I'll pretend I had nothing to do with it), adult television channels, more sex talk, and several very funny telephone calls done in deliberately rubbish foreign accents.
It was 3 am when I left. I felt ill. The next day, I was extremely knackered. My parents and I went shopping (they particularly like Marks & Spencers) and had a lovely, quiet dinner at Zizzi on Sunday night for my birthday (I've just turned 22 and thus dinosaur-aged). On Monday, we spent the day in Covent Garden, and came home to prepare for a nice Valentine's Day dinner I'd planned at Yauatcha. They loved it. We went on a mini walkabout tour of Leicester Square and the un-dodgy bits of Soho before heading home - it was extremely windy and cold, and we were all very tired.
It's always very difficult saying goodbye to my parents when they have to leave, and this visit had been particularly short. I'm consoled by the wonders of modern technology that allow us to communicate on a daily, cost free basis; but there is something to be said about presence and contact. It will be a long, four month stretch (at least) before I see them again, and the image replaying itself over and over in my mind has been permeating my dreams - rushing back upstairs after saying goodbye in the front hallway, drawing back my curtains, and seeing my parents crossing the street, pulling their suitcases behind them. And the exact moment when my mum turned her head back up to the window, smiled and waved back at me, before turning and disappearing round the corner.
the radio 2 effect
The Brit awards were held on Wednesday night, and, pop categories aside, I was moderately pleased with the results. I was particularly interested in the British Rock Act award, for which Franz Ferdinand, Kasabian, Muse, Snow Patrol and The Libertines were nominated (Franz Ferdinand won).
I know that I'm a music snob (actually, that might be a bit of an understatement). But looking through the list of winners - Will Young, Keane (who, I'll admit, are decent), The Streets, and Joss Stone - it appears as though the voting panel consisted of executives from Radio 2, the home of soft pop/rock. I have nothing against soft pop/rock (well, maybe I do), but if this is the direction in which British music is headed, I find this mildly disturbing.
And don't get me started on Robbie Williams' Angels, which is supposedly the 'best song of the last 25 years'.
Robbie Williams beat Joy Division (Love Will Tear Us Apart - brilliant), or Kate Bush, whose Wuthering Heights is an undeniable classic? I nearly fainted. Robbie Williams. It's simply not right.
I was very sorry to miss seeing the Scissor Sisters open the awards show with a performance that apparently included singing melons (there are times during which I really wish I had a TV). I would have also liked to see Franz Ferdinand accepting their awards. In fact, I would have liked to give them an award myself. Best British Hair. No, really.
this week
This week is action packed, and rather unfortunately, very little of that action seems to have anything to do with work that actually needs doing.
Monday was the disastrous Forecasting in-course assesssment which I won't discuss any further, as it will undoubtedly make me feel depressed, not to mention stupid.
I finally got my hair cut on Tuesday morning. Heidi didn't take off as much length when I saw her before Christmas, so my hair was really getting quite long and the layers needed to be tidied up (not to mention my fringe, which could have qualified as a curtain). I was feeling slightly more adventurous so I asked her to go a bit shorter, and make the layers a bit choppier whilst still keeping the layers long. She point-cut into the ends and worked some sort of wizardry on the rest of the hair, ran some straightening irons through so the layers were more defined, and then proceeded to make them even choppier. I have no idea what else she did, but I
love the result. My hair hasn't been this short in ages - it just about grazes my shoulder, and could qualify as swingy supermodel hair. I love it.
Tuesday night was a night out with friends. Dinner was at Satsuma in Soho, where I ate 'like a horse', according to my friends. They are all male, and I happen to eat more than they do, which is a rather embarrassing and disgusting habit I really ought to stop (i.e. eat before meeting with them, and nibble daintily at a salad when I'm actually with them). Ocean's Twelve was slick, with a brilliant acid jazz soundtrack, but its plot was baffling at the best of times, terribly incomprehensible, with gaping plot holes. Its redeeming factor - Catherine Zeta Jones' wardrobe - all sharp tailoring and sky high heels. Very lovely. Plot aside, the film was enjoyable nonetheless. A romp. But a rather fluffy one indeed.
Today, just about my only female friend and I went shopping. I don't think I have ever shopped for over six hours straight, and it wasn't that we shopped till we dropped - we simply shopped till we weren't actually allowed in any more shops because they were closing. We were looking for things to wear/accessorise for my birthday party, and needless to say it was a very productive (
too productive, in fact) shopping session. I bought two small make-up items, two basic scoop necked cotton tops for everyday wear, a gold shell necklace, a pair of kitten heeled court shoes for spring, and shoe insoles (very exciting). I didn't spend very much, as most of the things I bought were either inexpensive or on sale, but it felt like I did because I had picked up so many little things. It is rather nice having a female companion whilst shopping - they actually offer an opinion, instead of a grunt and an 'I'll be waiting outside' as my male friends do.
Tomorrow and Friday will be spent grocery shopping. D and I need to pick up some food and drinks for the pre-dinner drinks, and I'm letting him get the alcohol (last time I tried, I got carded, so I won't push my luck in attempting to buy several full size vodkas, rums, wines - in the eyes of overzealous cashiers I still apparently look under 18). Then I have to clean my flat as it is in a rather sorry state.
Saturday is a big day - my parents arrive in the morning, and then my birthday party is at night. The party was inadvertantly planned before I knew that my parents would be in London, and they have been very good about me not spending that evening with them. I've already warned them that I will probably be stumbling home at 3 a.m. completely pissed. Keith has suggested that I get my parents drunk, and imagine my dad 'making little winky lovey dovey faces at [my mum], and [my] mum all red faced and giggly'. For those who know my parents, I'm sure you can envision why I nearly fell off my chair giggling at that image.
If any of you can suggest a way to factor
work into all of this, do let me know...
no, it's not about the weather
I have my first in-course assessment in Forecasting today, and am rather nervous about it. I feel like I'm out of practice, no longer knowing how to sit an in class exam, and my time management skills feel extremely rusty. My term has thus far been a proverbial walk in the park, and I feel that when faced with an exam, I'd say: 'Oh, an exam, how lovely. What's that?'
Forecasting is another beast altogether. It is not what I'd expected at all - it's actually very theoretical, as opposed to applied, and so far we've only been dealing with time series models and deriving the statistical properties of them (for which the algebra truly is awful). I thought the course would deal with actual data, but so far, it has not - I've been told, however, that the 'real data' bit comes after reading week.
For those reading this with their eyes glazed over, Forecasting is time series analysis - for example, fluctuations in stock market prices, share prices, or even daily minimum temperatures over a period of time, for example. The analysis bit of Forecasting deals with describing what has already happened; the modelling bit of it attempts to predict future values. But as the old saying goes, predicting the future is a bit like driving a car blindfolded whilst following instructions given by a person looking out of the back window.
Disheartening, isn't it? Jolly good. Wish me luck.
I have bought a load of things lately - all of which are actually rather useless but make me happy nonetheless. They are:
- A woven Moroccan leather belt with silver discs.
Boho chic a la Sienna Miller/Kate Moss/every other blonde, wavy haired it girl of the moment, except that I am not blonde nor remotely wavy haired. Oh well. I too can be an it girl/wanton starlet/trashy girl left behind at the prom etc.
- A small muscari plant in a silver pot.
I feel sorry for it already. This poor plant will undoubtedly suffer the same fate as all of the other houseplants I've cared for/murdered (delete as applicable). Plants. So high maintenance.
- A package of 50 peel-and-seal white envelopes.
I was looking for the ribbed manila sort, but they were rather unfortunately sold out. Peel-and-seal seems like an insult to my intelligence. Amongst my other talents, and contrary to what you all might think, I am perfectly capable of licking an envelope.
- A black ink pen.
The same sort I'd bought a month ago whose ink, to my horror, dried up promptly with a mere week's worth of use. However I believe that everything deserves a second chance, and that includes pens (however crap they might have once been).*
- A mother's day card.
I keep forgetting that my mum lives in Canada, where Mother's Day is celebrated in May or thereabouts; and that I live in Britain, where Mother's Day is celebrated in March (so terribly confusing). Those Canadians - incredibly obtuse. They have to be different about everything, don't they.
- Two tinted lip conditioners.
The fact that I have full lips means that there is simply a great deal of surface area to cover. Not really a very good excuse for purchasing more lip balms to add to my collection of, oh, 2,136 similar products of course.
- A pair of pale gold with dark brown pumps.
After consulting with my stylist (Mum), she said, 'Those have got to be the ugliest shoes I have ever seen!' and went on to remind me of a pair of multicoloured, striped bellbottoms I had the stupidity of wearing in sixth grade. Every it girl/wide-eyed ingenue/etc is allowed to make disastrous choices in important sartorial matters such as these. (The shoes went back to the shop - how I adore thee, return policy.)
- A box of Ultra Light pantyliners
Why? Because I find UltraSilk (where is that bloody trademark symbol?) technology fascinating, darling.
- A bottle of white wine (for cooking, I promise)
To my horror and embarrassment, I was carded whilst buying this at Marks & Bloody Spencer Food. 'Are you over 18 years old?' the cashier said, looking down at me sternly, dangling the bottle (rather infuriatingly) in manner of hypnotic swinging pendulum. In situations like these I make good use of my eyelashes and voice (which reportedly has gotten even huskier lately, if you've not heard it in awhile). 'I'm turning 22 next week, actually', I said (whilst wanting to be swallowed up by the floor). One of these days/years I shall take being carded as a compliment.
*Please note that this statement does not always apply to men.
