be a filter, not a sponge

You know when you have those days that just get to you?  I just couldn't bring myself to leave my bed this morning, leading me to ignore every alarm and request from my boyfriend to get up. I didn't have anywhere to be until 3:20 and I needed to ease myself into this life of routine at a slow pace.  When I did finally set off, without breakfast or coffee, I almost collapsed by the time I reached campus. I guess whenever I joked about walking to uni being my only exercise, I was actually being serious?  A slightly depressing thought, but I'll manage. It was walking back that was the hard part though; I managed to get drenched by the rain, stand in multiple puddles and get a blister on each of my ankles. After recovering with a cheese panini, Vitamin Water and Torchwood in bed, I returned to my own house only to be greeted by a paper cut. Green Tea in my favourite Hanna-Barbera mug is yet to fix this day.  I think that sometimes lots of little bad things have more of an impact on your mental health than one horrific event.  And although I promised myself I would start doing something university related tonight, and not rereading my old favourite The Perks of Being a Wallflower, it's looking more likely that sweatpants and BBC iPlayer will be my calling.

I'm Still Breathing

After all those melodramatic posts leading up to my 20th birthday, I never did actually follow anything up to confirm that no one found me on the morning of my birthday hanging from my bedroom's light fixture with that skull scarf from Germany that I blogged about.  I'm still alive, in case you haven't guessed... or maybe that's a lie and I'm writing this from BEYOND THE GRAVE, either way, you haven't gotten rid of me yet.  This isn't to say that I got over my fears of being an adult, quite the contrary, every once in a while when I haven't kept busy enough I get this sinking feeling in my stomach and my pulse starts racing and I realise that I'm probably going nowhere in my life.  But this blog isn't supposed to be about me complaining, it is supposed to be about documenting my MEANINGLESS and PATHETIC little life on the Internet (balls... did it again).

So I start my final year of university next week.  Well, the welcome and introductory lectures start... and to be honest I'm already planning to skip two of them.  We're onto a great start, folks.  I am gonna try a bit harder with the literature side of my degree this year though, although judging by the reading list on my Contemporary Fiction module that might be easier said than done.  Anyway, I've probably been watching too much Awkward, seeing as I've deluded myself into thinking you people actually care about my life.  But I don't have two super-attractive-and-clearly-older-than-sixteen-year-old-boys in love with me (I'm totally Team Jake, by the way).  I do have a headache though, which is clearly just as enthralling and would make an excellent television sitcom.  Hit me up, MTV.  Bleh, I'm totally off topic... not that this post actually had one to begin with or anything.  But I guess we've come full circle now, back to my uncontrollable pessimism about my existence.  I'll leave you with a picture of what I wore to see Brave this evening, in grayscale to represent the inner torments of my soul.

(Topshop: skinny jeans, oversized denim jacket, hat; New Look: jumper; Thrifed: military rucksack)

Also, I wasn't that impressed by it, if anyone wants a film student's opinion on it... which I doubt.  I'm pretty sure that Animation History class I took last semester kinda ruined Pixar for me a bit.  That, and the accents reminded me of How To Train Your Dragon too much, which I think is greatest animated film of all time... even more so than Ice Age 3.  The naaaaaaaaaaame's Buck, short for Buckminster, long for BUUUUUUH.

Laaaaaateeeeeer.