In which our heroine craves valium

I had my first actual lesson-lesson today and my confidence for the next two years has been completely undermined. I haven't had a problem putting my hand up and offering ideas and answers since I finished school and the last few days have been so relaxed that the classes felt more like a group conversation where there were no wrong answers.

Today I was late because I have a forty mile commute and hit traffic in the last mile so I was already worried I'd pissed off the tutor but it was all for nothing. The class was being held in one of the hospitality boxes at the stadium with a big window overlooking the pitch and I sat so I could see the man who cuts patterns in the grass. And I was settled in for class. Today was portfolio writing and Harvard referencing, and I kind of got it. I think. Then the tutor asked a question, I can't even remember what it was now, but I offered an answer expecting he would just say yes or no and move on to other people.

But he didn't. He decided to look at me expectantly like I hadn't finished my answer. So I scrabbled for a fuller answer, umming and ahhing and making no sense towards the end and then finally giving up and asking him to move onto someone else. Which, mercifully , he did. I was ridiculously shook up by the whole thing and you'd think I'd learnt my lesson but it had to happen twice more before I learned to stop putting my hand up.

We then had to write mock report conclusions and introductions and though my conclusion was the only one that didn't get critiqued to pieces, after he had read my introduction out he stared at it frowning for a full 30 seconds before murmuring "there is something about it..."

Blind panic. Alarm bells. Armageddon and horsemen. I blurt out everything that could possibly be wrong with my writing. After, he looks at me, hmms, nods, and moves onto the next person.

And now I will be looking over my shoulder for the rest of my natural essay-writing life.

Hmm.

Ta-daa! I finally started university yesterday, two months later than the rest of the country. It would be exciting if this week wasn't all admin and learning how to use the university's weird system and it would be enjoyable if I knew anyone/wasn't crap with strangers.

Today I spent four hours being told that liking PCs was wrong and that Apple is the best thing ever. Here's a trio of terrible secrets I have, dear reader... First: even though I know a lot about technology I refuse to certain operating systems (i.e. Mac) because I'm weirdly sentimental about Windows. Second: I hate Apple with a passion even though I know it's better. Third, and this is the worst: I still use Internet Explorer. I'll never change. I'm doomed to slow internet and crashing computers. We were invited back after lunch for a couple more hours learning the ins and outs of Apple Macs. My god, no. I'll probably regret it later in the semester but at the time it seemed like a life or death decision.

At university the whole being-social thing is a complete mystery to me. Most of the people on the course (there is only one course) live together nearby and so know each other. I commute 40 miles every day with two people I work with but I haven't made any new friends or anything at uni. It's only the end of day two now but I'm pretty sure I'm doomed to die alone. I don't really like parties because big social situations are my own personal hell and I don't drink so I'm usually the only one sober anyway. I say stupid stuff I regret and I do stupid stuff I regret. Today I was trying to turn the heater in the common room on and it was going AWOL, I panicked, thinking I'd broken it and it turned out the guy behind me had the remote for it and was flicking through the settings. And everyone was laughing. Shit.

Half of my classes this week are in a football stadium because the main uni building is busy and there is no heating. It's fine for all the sweaty rugby players walking around because they do weights for three hours a day but by the end of yesterday everyone was so cold they were going into spasms.

I also gained the nickname "Garfield" because I love lasagne.

I'll try get some pictures next week, we're being taught fire safety and pyrotechnics (boom).

 

New things

7 new things this week:

1. I bought this face mask stuff from Soap & Glory (I love everything about them) that heats up when it's on your face and I thought I'd try it for science and I swear I nearly burnt my face off. In a really pleasant way. My face is all smoothy-smooth and lovely now. And I didn't have to turn the heating on.

2. My sister's birthday was this week so I took her to Big Scary Leeds to do some proper shopping and dropped £200 in one go. I wouldn't mind too terribly but it was the morning of pay day.

3. I noticed that someone I absolutely despised at college has only liked three things I've ever posted on Facebook. Two of these were checking into A&E, the third was when I got glass in my hand at work. I love it when I'm not the crazy one.

4. My beautiful new dress! Yay.

5. I doubted a friend and I feel terrible for it. They were accused of stealing from the till at work and I have believed they were innocent the entire way and I have had their back. And then one person told me a part of the incident I didn't know about and I doubted them. My major gripe is that even if they did do it, I wouldn't care, I would just rather be told the truth. And if it turns out they lied to me, they know I will at least attempt to break their legs. :-) :-) :-)

6. I made my step-dad laugh so hard with a joke about gravy boats that he nearly crashed the car. My insurance doesn't cover the cost of repeating it.

7. When we went out for my sister's birthday meal we ate a ma-hoo-ssive main meal and then got 'cakeaway' for dessert, and I took home a slice of cake that stood 10 inches tall. Eating it was a daunting experience but I am wiser for it.

Times are hard for dreamers.

I can't decide what I am.

And I can't quite explain what I mean either because it's 2am. I think what I mean is that I hoped at this point I would have a specific niche that defines me, like, "That's Nicole, she's [insert adjective here]". I'm doing a lot of meeting new people at the moment with university starting and stuff and I have absolutely BOMBED when trying to introduce myself at every point so far.

I can't define myself. My label should probably be "unspecified".

I think the problem is mostly that there are things I want to do and people I want to be that are just impossible. And I don't want to settle for less, because passing that up would suck.

I have no idea if other people have the same problem. I guess it's kind of open-ended.

It probably doesn't come across but I'm actually feeling pretty cheerful at the moment. I'm sat in bed with a bowl of popcorn watching Family Guy, life is good.

I probably should have put a 2AM EXISTENTIAL CRISIS warning at the top of this post.

Up the ante.

I've always hated the expression "big shit in a small bowl" but at this moment I kind of get it.

When I was about 16 me and my friends in sixth form used to play poker with our lunch money and sometimes I would win tidy amounts. And then I didn't play for four years. And then a few weeks ago I decided I had a taste for it again and started playing online and reading books (Poker For Dummies, Texas Hold'em For Dummies and Winning At Internet Poker For Dummies live next to my bed at the moment) and trying to understand the game more now than I used to. I really enjoy the game. There's much more to it than I originally thought when I first started playing four years ago. There's some maths, having to work out the odds of the card you need coming up, a little knowing your enemy, watching for tells and patterns in play, and the luck of the draw. I can almost convince myself I'm not gambling.

Until about fifteen minutes ago I never played for real money. I've already lost $5. I am an idiot. Why have I done this?

Playing at the 'Play Money' poker tables is great when you just want to enjoy the game, test the waters and (I just won back $2, yay!) don't want to scar your bank account for life so early on. Buuuuut I have just found out that whilst you can be (lost $2) really good on the free tables, you can just end up being a big shit in a small bowl.

I'm being hung out to dry by these guys where the real money is. I am hopelessly lost. I have lost a third of my bankroll in the first fifteen minutes and I'm only on the smaller stakes table. And I am now down to 52 cents at the behest of a guy whose avatar is a wizard.

I guess the thing I love the most about poker is the astronomical odds of just about everything. There are 2,598,960 possible hands I could be dealt, I will only ever be dealt one of them, and I have to make them work for me. If I can make a hand as bad as 2 of diamonds and 7 of clubs sit up and sing for me it's a good day in Nicole-land. (won $1)

Also there's the added fun of teasing strangers on the internet as they try to work out why I'm playing a certain way. Changing my ways and putting everyone on the table on red alert is just evil and kind of hilarious to sit back and watch.

Which I thoroughly intend to do. I'm retiring to the free tables for the night, $3 up and with about 10 years of my life lost to sheer bloody panic.

Vitriol.

Tonight at work someone ripped into me for no reason and made me cry.

I've been feeling like crap for days. My throat is raw, my eyes sting and my nose is either blocked or running. But I've still been at work every night, I've still been at college every day. I'm proud of myself for not sleeping through one or the other.

Tonight started out as a good night, I'd sat in the office and got a lot of college work done, the main band were good, a few of my friends were there, I was feeling good because I was helping a photographer get pictures for his portfolio. The band finished and I was getting ready to pack up, feeling pretty happy in myself.

And then when I was putting some equipment away some dick from one of the bands (I suspect it was a tour manager) starting shouting at me and calling me all kinds of things for no reason. I didn't even know what he was talking about. He was pissed up and being vulgar.

And just like that all my good feeling about the night went. I gave him a level look and carried on packing stuff away, then I went to find someone to talk to, because I was reeling.

At first I tried being indignant. I stood on the stage with the sound engineer and some others and raved about it and tried to project all my hurt into one long rant to let it all out so I could feel happy again. I was starting to feel worse for wear again, my head was hurting, I kept sniffing, my throat stung. I was angry but my feelings were hurt, and unfortunately I'm the kind of person who takes everything to heart.

And then I tried to distract myself. My hearing tends to go a bit after a night at work because the ear plugs I have aren't good enough to stop them ringing. I walked out of the venue, put my headphones in and tried playing happy songs to cheer myself up, but my eyes felt hot and I was breathing to quick.

It's humiliating enough to have to walk home crying, but when you live in the middle of town that's even worse.

I got home, locked the door and let out a huge sob. How dare he? What right did he have? I don't care if he's David Bowie or the postman, where does he get off talking to anyone like that? I was doing so well, I'd really tried today.

And I need a shoulder to cry on, and I'm home alone, and it's too late to call anyone, and I don't know who I'd call.

It's not fair. It's not fair.

Backstabber

Backstabber, hope-grabber

Greedy little fit-haver

God I feel for you, fool

Shit-lover, off-brusher

Jaded bitter joy-crusher

Failure has made you so cruel

 

 

 

 

(I absolutely love Amanda Palmer/The Dresden Dolls, plus this music video is just fantastic)

 

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This last week at college has been the worst I've had in a lo-o-ong time. Nothing but grief from the same two people who have gone out of their way for the last year and a half to make sure I can't have a week at college without wanting to flay one or both of them.

 

There's no point to what they do. There is no basis to their holier-than-thou attitude and they're both just fucking useless. They don't do any work and think only of themselves and their own personal gain, expecting everything to fall into their lap. I, more than anyone, have the right to be pissed at them because I've been the only person that has been in every day of the week single-handedly doing the work, research and building that everyone is meant to be doing. I don't mind that others have been ill, I don't mind that I don't get any credit, it's more that these two claim the credit for themselves for doing sweet fuck-all.

 

But, after college I will never have to see them again. One is completely unemployable and will not get anywhere in life once he hits the real world and realises that he can't be the queen of Sheba and expect a standing ovation for it. The other, I'm just waiting for the realisation that she's about as useful as a suntan is to a frog to hit her in her stupid face.

It'll be hilarious.