Wait... dude... what?

So I finished my degree. Yay I guess.

However, it all begs the question 'What now?'

Quite.

What now indeed.

Thus far I have been eating and sleeping and watching TV, the sort of TV that rots your soul and leaves you thinking that if this is the pinnacle of human civilisation after years and years of evolution then we are all basically fucked.

Having said that, oh my god, Quantum Leap is seriously awesome.

I've also been spending an inordinate amount of time dwelling on all the flaws I happen to carry around with me, falling in love with Zach Galafianakis in that borderline-psychotic way I do, and having dreams where I go on secret missions to save the fate of the world but end up getting distracted halfway through and making out with whoever happens to be my co-star that particular night (I don't think we have to dig too deep into my subconscious to unroot the particular genesis of those particular flights of fancy). That's it. That and thinking about writing, going to my laptop to write things, opening up Word and looking at a blank page, closing Word, opening up My Downloads folder, rolling a joint, watching Six Feet Under instead (In the name of My Super Sweet Sixteenth, how much more awesome are shows like Six Feet Under when you're stoned? I so totally get the character's motivations and, like, dude, he totally wants her to think that he thinks that when in actuality he thinks this but he isn't consciously aware of that fact and yet she is! Yeah, it all get's pretty deep round my way let me tells ya's).

Yet somehow, and God knows how, doing all this isn't really that fulfilling. I know right? Who woulda thought it?

I sort of feel stuck at the moment. I had this thing (i.e. my degree) that I was working towards and I DID do work, for the last four years, and it all paid off and I got good marks and I sort of have a vague idea with what I'm doing next (for the coming year at least) and yet, here we are. I was expecting to feel more like a proper grown up but I don't feel like a grown up. I was expecting to feel a sense of relief but I don't feel all that relieved. I was thinking that I'd probably feel kind of sad when it was all over but I don't really feel sad. I just don't feel anything. I keep waiting for something to happen, for a bolt of lightning to shoot down from the heavens above bringing with it a handy instruction manual for what I'm supposed to do and feel now. But it doesn't. So really, seriously, honestly, what now?

There's a mouse in my house

This isn't the start of a witty poem or whimsical folk song.

There's a mouse. In my house.

He seems to like me whereas I am wary of him*. Maybe because on our first encounter he tried to make me look like a damned fool by running away and not coming out till the wee hours when I pointed out to Chloe; 'look, there's a mouse there!' Before the last syllable had escaped my lips he was gone. Boy, can he move. I'm convinced he has a hoverboard, or at least hovering capabilities built in, as I refuse to believe any creature can move as fast as him naturally.

He sits under my chair eating the crumbs between my carpet tiles (yeah. I live in the 1970's. Deal with it) and I sit atop the chair terrified to put my feet down in case... well... I'm not really sure what 'The Dude' would do (I'm calling him that as he came out of his hiding spot and revealed himself to Chloe in order that he could inspect an ashtray containing the remmants of soft drugs) but I'm terrified nonetheless. The fear is slowly subsiding but I still don't like the idea of waking up in the middle of the night and having something sat there looking at me. My three main fears are:
1. The thought of touching dead things (whether it's a deceased moth or the ashes of my dearly departed great aunt escaping into the atmosphere when I am in the nearby vicinity of her ash-scattering** ceremony),
2. Pigeons,
3. Being stared at.

He is cute. I'm going to grant him that but I think he knows I feel this way and consequently he's taken the authority position in our relationship (as all males are wont to do) as I'll be chatting away telling him to leave; 'Dude, I can't cope with strangers running round my room. Seriously, get out' whilst he ignores me. It's not great for one's self-esteem to be openly and wilfully ignored by something smaller than the palm of your hand.

Still. I guess he IS The Dude. The Dude does what The Dude wants. And what The Dude wants is to make my room smell of mouse. Which it does now.

Great.

*This phenomena is also apparent in babies, although in their case I'm not sure it's that they like me. It's more that they'll stop whatever they are doing - crying, playing, pooing, and just look at me with wide eyed astonishment. I'm starting to think I engender feelings of fear within them but I'm not sure how yet.
** Is that the correct term? I'm pretty sure there's something more formal I could have used there. My mother didn't believe this was a genuine fear of mine until I started getting hysterical that it was a windy day and I couldn't cope with getting dead person ingrained on my clothes. Papa M calmed me down with the comforting words 'don't worry, you breathe dead people in all the time don't you?'. He always knows how to make me feel better.

Someone made a computer game out of my face.

It's awesome

(Click on 'toons')

Procrastination Masterclass

The concept was simple enough: three essays in three days. I'm reasonably smart, I am an extremely quick reader, I have all the journal articles and books I need to write the essays. Three essays in three days? Piss easy mate.

I then started laughing in the face of time. I openly mocked it's stupid, perfectly round, clock face.

'Ha' I said. To it's face.

But then time turned around, raised one of it's time-eyebrows and said...

'I think you might be forgetting something Ms Mulholland'

'What's that?' I smirked

'You have the attention span of a ritalin addicted three year old. You might have more than enough time to do these essays but no way will you stay focused enough to complete them'

'Oh yeah? I'll show you time. I will show you good'

So here we are. The deadline I set myself is 5 o' clock on Friday. Right now it is 1am. I have 16 hours left.

Guess how many essays I have completed since the start of this ridiculous adventure?

None.

And do you know why?

Because I have the attention span of a ritalin addicted three year old.

Amongst other things, I've watched three episodes of How I Met Your Mother (Doogie Howser MD is my hero on it), two episodes of Dexter, one episode of the Gilmore Girls. I have renamed all my downloads so they adhere to the same naming system and therefore look much neater when you open the folders. I have spent time daydreaming. I listened to music. I had a nap or two. I wrote a blog.

You will be surprised to learn that none of these things are helping with the essay writing.

Martyrs Unite

So I gave up.

I went home for dog cuddles and soup and homemade rice pudding and my moms.

Martyrdom really doesn't suit me. It looks better on people that have a soul. Or an ounce of dignity in their body.

I left The Ford at 21:48 on Wednesday evening. It was the exact point in time where I was starting to feel better enough that I could actually appreciate someone looking after me but still ill enough that I wouldn't have to fake being ill to garner appropriate amounts of sympathy.

Which was nice.

Now I know, for one, I hate those stories and bon mots that start 'My dog does the funniest thing...'

But.

The red dog has really enjoyed my 'visit'. Pretty much every one of my used tissues has been taken out of the various bins we have around the house and torn up a little. Why? What does it mean? What does it achieve? Why does red dog do this?

Because she's nuts. If she were human she'd be Glenn Close's character in Fatal Attraction. She is needy and weird and obsessive.

The fact that it only happens when I leave her alone in a room for more than three minutes twenty seconds makes me think it's either a punishment of some kind or a present. Especially as upon my return she's always sat back in the last place I left her (behind the sofa, on top of the sofa, on her back with her head on a cushion). To be honest, red dog is starting to creep me out.

Illness does not become me

Let me preface this by saying that:
1) I'm a hypochrondriac
2) Everyone knows that hypochrondriacs never get ill

With that out of the way comes my first question:
How did I end up getting ill?

And by 'ill' I don't mean 'oooh I feel a bit peaky this morning, best stay in bed and watch This Morning'.

I mean I havent eaten anything for three days because just the thought of standing up for longer than it takes a kettle to boil (I may be ill but I still need tea) makes me feel exhausted. But also I'm just not hungry anyways. This isn't a problem I've encountered in a while as I normally lose my appetite in connection to the male of the species (either due to being lovesick or heartbroken) and the male of the species haven't exactly been bothering me lately*.

I mean I've slept pretty much non stop for the last 72 hours. And therefore missed TWO consecutive days of seeing my lecturer crush. Trust me, when it comes to crush days ('Crush days: The best days of all the days') it would normally take a Biblical flood to keep me away.

I mean I've been unable to watch The Wire (The motherfucking Wire man! I love that shit dawg!) because it requires some degree of concentration. (Unlike every other television programe on channels one through four. Sweet. Baby. Jesus. I knew I'd been spoiled what with all the downloading and the skyplusing and the DVD boxsets. But... I just... I didn't realise how bad it had got in normal telly land. But there's the rub: Has it always been this bad or has all the well-written, subtley acted, emotional engaging tv that I've almost exclusively been exposed to for MONTHS now (minus the intentionally trashy so-bad-it's-good shows like ANTM and Come Dine With Me) changed my perceptions irrevocably? For now, for ever, and for always?**)

I haven't even been able to put pen to paper to plan my radio shows this week. Even with my laziness gene managing to make a mockery of a sham of all the tasks on my to do list EVERY SINGLE DAY, I actively enjoy doing that (my procrastination superskills only kick in on things I don't particularly want to do. Like essays. And everything I'm being made to do for the sake of it rather than the love of it. Which is everything.)

But now, as it approaches 2 o' clock in the morning... I feel a little better. I even feel a little hungry. My voice is sounding slightly less Marge Simpson-y with each passing minute. All things we can safely store under the 'yay' column. However, I don't feel TIRED. I've never felt more awake. I guess sleeping for 72 hours will tend to have that effect on a person.

* This is something I've been meaning to talk to y'all about. I've had a couple guys ask me out recently (definition of 'recently'? Within living memory) And both times THEY have asked me out. Both times I have said yes. Both times a time and date have been agreed upon by both parties. BOTH times nothing has come of it. To coin a phrase: wat up wid dat? Seriously?
**And this from the girl that used to obsessively watch Doctors.

Things that improve my life by (approximately) 78%

1. Curly straws
2. Drinks umbrellas
3. Stories that start 'You know when you have an awkward amount of cereal left?' and end 'so I had to graze at it like a horse'.
4. Never having to do statistics again in my life AS I GOT MY BLOODY DISSERTATION DONE INNIT. (How to celebrate? Pizza, beer, tidying up my room. Rock on)
5. When my mum ends phone conversations with the phrase 'rock on'

Women want me, fish fear me

So said a bumper sticker I saw on the back of a van whilst wandering into uni yesterday.

Let's examine this a bit closer shall we?

Women [Ok, yep, with you. The gender that isn't 'men']
Want [Right. Women want... a lot of things I should imagine. Be interesting to see where you're going with this Mr Bumper Sticker]
Me [Huh. Are you... are you sure? I'm rarely attracted to men that have bumper stickers making such bold proclamations but fine, I understand the qualities that attract me to a man are not neccessarily the same as what everyone else goes for]
Fish [The species of animal. I believe I'm familiar with them]
Fear [The emotion I feel when a pigeon is in a five yard radius to me. Yes, I'm familiar with this also. I'm not entirely certain how impressive it is to be able to strike fear into a fish but for the sake of argument let's roll with this for a bit]
Me [You've lost me].

I don't even... am I missing something? I just... I don't...

Women want me,
Fish fear me.

What?

Let us disregard the fact that it's possibly slightly delusional to think that an entire species of animal is terrified of you personally*. Instead, I have to ask: Is one statement here influenced by the other? If you are popular with the ladies do fish start jumping out of their tanks upon your approach in a deluded effort to flee the scene? Or is it that the 'womens' these days love nothing more than getting a piece of action from the infamous fish frightener?

I DONT GET IT.

However, it is nice to know where you stand with people isn't it? Saves on small talk and the like. We should all just start wearing badges/have bumper stickers that give the world two interesting facts about ourselves.

Mine will say:
'Babies are hypnotised by my face,
Pigeons are out to destroy me'*

Make of that what you will.

*Of course thinking that an entire species of animal is out to DESTROY you? That's perfectly sane and normal.

Sometimes 'GOLF SALE' just means there's a golf sale

You know when those guys are stood in the street advertising a 'GOLF SALE'? It turns out that it is actually advertising a GOLF SALE. Directing you to a shop where they sell you golf things.

I know right!

Because I had thought that this was sort of euphamism, some kind of cultural knowledge that everyone else was in on ("Oh look, this way to the 'golf sale' [wink]") except me because really, why do you need to advertise golf products more than any other? Why aren't there people holding signs for things like 'SHOE LACES SALE'. (I would actually quite like that, I often bemoan the lack of neon signs directing my attention to the things I need to buy. I would love it if you could press pause, press the L and R keys down and an arrow pops up in front of you flashing 'shoe laces this way'. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. If you are a crazy-haired inventor I would really appreciate you getting to work on this immediately, for me)

It's just that, surely if you are the sort of person that golfs then you find out where to buy these things from your golfing buddies or from the club where you a member. It's not the sort of hobby that you just randomly take up. And even if it was, how many people are tempted into it having seen a swarthy dude in a street holding a big luminous yellow sign that says 'GOLF SALE' on it?

I don't know, it just seems sort of poetic that 'GOLF SALE [arrow]' actually means 'GOLF SALE [this way]'.

And it also means that I spend far too much time being paranoid that I'm missing out on something and thinking that there's things in the world that are more complicated than they actually are. Thus my new slogan is going to be: "Sometimes 'GOLF SALE' just means 'golf sale'".

Recreating scenes from your favourite movies

I am so in love with my lecturer it's slightly ridiculous.

Every now and then I would catch myself, chin resting on hand, throwing adoring gazes in his direction and realise... You're looking at him like you love him. You're one of those girls from Indiana Jones' class with 'I Love You' written on your eyelids.

Stop.
It.

I was even moved to speak up in class. Like, a lot. THAT'S the power of love right there. I want to impress him and for him to realise what a stunning intellect I have and for us to have long red-wine fuelled discussions on the nature of reality and whether our view of the world is what actually exists or just a subjective construct that is filtered through our language, and historical and cultural backgrounds. And stuff.

And he got passionate talking about how shite the Daily Mail is. And he was talking about this book and said it had changed the way he views the world. THIS is what I signed up for, THIS is the university experience promised to me by Saved By the Bell: The College Years. Getting inspired by intelligent, attractive men.

Ugh. Look at me I'm gushing. I don't gush. (I so totally do).

I know I do this. I fall in love every week with a different one and then talk about them incessently but still. I can't help it. I am a girl. It's what we do. (And by 'we' I mean 'me').

Plus, I got a first for an essay I did in the module that caused me the most headaches last semester. (An essay that was 'fascinating and beautifully written'. This from the man that told me I don't 'fizz with enough energy' to be a successful writer. SUCK IT BITCH. To be fair I did write it all about me and me is my favourite subject). I would come home from those lectures with adrenaline coursing through my veins and fired up with righteous anger because OH MY GOD people can be dumb. And learning about 'positive psychology' is basically like being strapped down and forced to watch 20 hours of Dr Phil with matchsticks propping open your unwilling eyes.

Not good basically.

But today? Today was good.

But then but then there's the little matter of this FREAKING GOD DAMNED dissertation. From today I have 5 days left to get the draft done and another two weeks after that for the final thing to be handed in. Thats three weeks. T-H-R-E-E W-E-E-K-S. I'll get it done. I always get these things done. If it means having four hours sleep for the next 19 nights I'll get it done. But it's the doing it you know? The doing it when there's TV to watch, Crash Bandicoot to play, books by the person you ('I') would be if you ('I') were a gay man to read. That sort of thing. Things I enjoy more than considering whether I need to apply Bonferoni's Correction to my data and how exactly to do a multivariate ANOVA test (I don't even know what half these things actually mean).

New Years Resolution

Do not add any inflection to the end of your sentences, producing awkward silences with the impression that you'll be saying more any moment.
Ha. I might make it my new years resolution to do everything on this list at least once in 2007. I've reached a bit of a plateau in my mad annoying-people skillz so it might be worth cranking it up a notch or two.

How I Spend My Days

Sleep sleep sleep.

See housemate and housemate's boyfriend in state of near nakedness.

Shout 'MY EYES MY EYES'.

Eat bowl of porridge.

Look at pile of work to do.

Go buy more stationary.

Rain rain rain.

Frizzy hair, frizzy hair, frizzy hair.

Walk past hippy/crystal shop for millionth time.

Realise (for the first time) it's called 'Apache Tears'.

Be sick in mouth.

Rain rain rain.

Look at pile of work to do.

Play Crash Bandicoot on Playstation.

Look at pile of work to do.

Faff and organise new stationary.

Eat sandwich.

Look at pile of work to do.

Sleep sleep sleep.

Top 5's from 2006

Top 5 Lessons Learned in 2006

• 5. If you're going to do 'sit down dancing' don't let it be filmed...: ... because you look like a twat at the best of times anyway.
• 4. Confrontation isn't as scary as my middle-class British upbringing would have me believe: So I'm sorry to the guys I dated this year who thought I'd be a pushover. That was just sooo 2005 dahlinks.
• 3. Not everyone analyses their own (and others) behaviour as closely as you do: So don't be surprised when people you know repeat the same mistakes again and again and aren't even aware they are doing it. You might consider it 'common sense' but not everyone has a therapist-in-training as one of their best mates.
• 2. Rejection isn't that bad: As long as you have learned to like yourself first. Simple hey? Although drunken, tearful 'seduction' attempts are probably never going to win anyone over in the first place if we're all honest.
• 1. How to be happy: Cos I actually think I am, for the first time in like... ever. However, it turns out that everything Ive done to become comfortable and content with myself have nothing to do with the bullshit lectures we did on 'positive psychology and well-being'. Funny that.

Top 5 Adverts

• 5. Gillette Fusion Gift Set: Quite obviously this guy he's buying a razor set for is his 'sugar daddy' and not his father which, when you realise this, gives the whole thing an even deeper level of creepiness than it already had.
• 4. Clearblue Pregnancy Test: Is this an advert for a pregnancy test or the next Star Trek series? It's difficult to tell.
• 3. Old El Paso Dinner Kits: "Yeah I'd thought I'd get Neil [lets call him Neil] to cook tonight"
  "What's he making? If it's fucking 'authentic' Mexican again I'm seriously going to kill myself"
  "Umm..."
• 2. Harpic 2 in 1: 'What does your loo say about you?' I hope and pray to little baby Jesus that it says FUCK ALL as its a T-O-I-L-E-T.
• 1. Virgin Credit Card: I keep rewinding the bit where 'Harold' is doing a shimmy. I have never loved the expression on someones face more than I love Harold's at that moment.

Top 5 Comedy Heroes

• 5. Simon Amstell: My love for him on Popworld is surely well known by now and I think he's carried on his fabulousness with his Buzzcocks presenting (and he has great hair).
• 4. Larry David: For obvious reasons.
• 3. Steve Carell: His portrayal of 'Michael Scott' in the American version of The Office is the funniest character on TV at the moment. There's also loads of clips on youtube of his 'Daily Show' days which proves he's always had mad comedy skillz yo.
• 2. Armando Iannucci: You want satire? You got satire. Time Trumpet was a triumph and having 'borrowed' Carlos's Armando Iannucci Show DVD I've been reminded a thousand times over of his genius.
• 1. David Cross: He writes! He acts! He blows other stand-ups out of the water! (not literally) He can turn even the most mundane character, script or situation into comedy gold (please see: 'She's the Man')! Just having him in the world improves my life by approx 76%.

Top 5 Mixtape Tricks

• 5. Include a couple TV theme songs in places: The laugh of recognition from people around you to the accompaniment of the opening bars of 'The Golden Girls' theme tune is one of the nicest sounds in the world.
• 4. Dot two or three TV/movie quotes throughout the tape: The 'and then...' clip from Dude Where's My Car ("I refuse to play your Chinese food mind games") will never stop being funny just as the 'Ezekiel 25-17' passage in Pulp Fiction will never stop being supercool
• 3. Keep in mind your purpose: A road trip comp will probably not be enhanced by the 10 minute version of Yes's 'Heart Of The Sunrise'. An 'I love you snookums' comp will probably not be enhanced by the works of Mötley Crüe (unless your loved one tastes swing that way in which case let it rip)
• 2. Keep in mind your audience: Like the bit at the end of High Fidelity where Rob is all 'I'm making a tape, for Laura, full of stuff she likes. I think I finally get how that's done'. But, you know, don't go overboard on that philosophy otherwise they could have just made it themselves.
• 1. Don't be fearful of including so-called 'Guilty Pleasures': Because there is nothing to feel guilty about when it comes to Huey Lewis or The Captain and Tennille. Everyone E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E secretly loves shit like that, it's just some people are more afraid to admit it.