Jack and I went to see the new Star Trek on Sunday. It was good, very go go go. All in all, I think my favourite character is Bones because he does his job and gets on with what he's supposed to do and everything but he literally complains about it the entire time and I relate to that on a spiritual level.
I had a point with this blog post. It was going to go somewhere, I'm sure of it.
Me saying that I'd been to the cinema can't have been the only thing I wanted to say.
Surely not.
Well, this is embarrassing.
Okay, well, in other news, my parents went away for a few days and the only present they brought back for me was the tea-bags from their hotel room. Fancy tea-bags, but still. I was shocked and appalled, too.
I genuinely can't remember what my purpose was with this so I'll leave it there for now. I'm sure it'll come to me at some point.
Song of the Day: Together by The Raconteurs (You want everything to be just like/ The stories that you read but never write)
A jumbled mess of thoughts
It's been a month of radio silence so I'm just going to sort of ramble incoherently for a bit, don't mind me.
I feel like 2016 is some sort of cosmic joke, and if there's a parallel universe then it must be having the best year ever where something wonderful is happening every single day just to balance out the insanity that is this year in this universe. Every time I think it can't possibly get any worse, something else happens and it's exhausting.
You know how when you were at school, and sometimes if your class had been a bit noisy or some people had been acting up or whatever, and the teacher used to tell you all off as a collective instead of singling out the troublemakers? So you'd know that you personally can't really be in trouble because you didn't do anything, but the teacher's mad and you feel guilty anyway? That's sort of how I feel about Brexit.
The sun is finally out in England but I hate it already. I really love the idea of summer, but when it actually arrives, I can't cope with it. It's too hot. I never last for too long outside, I managed about an hour yesterday before retreating indoors for a cold shower. I can't help it, I just crave the cold and darkness, like the strange little hermit I am. I grew up in Saudi Arabia, this shouldn't be happening to me. Although in fairness, we had air-conditioning in Saudi, whereas here there is no escape and the heat just encompasses everything. It's like being in a hot bath you can't get out of. I hate it. Also I'm terrible at keeping myself hydrated so that probably doesn't help (I should really work on that).
Last week, Jack went to hunt down some ice cream, and he shouted to me, "What are these things in the freezer?"
Unable to see through walls, I called back, "What things?"
"The things that look like muffins."
"The muffins, you mean?"
There was a silence before his head popped back around the corner. "Alright, Sarcasmo," he said. He calls me that a lot. I answer a lot of Jack's questions with sarcasm and eye-rolls.
"I wasn't even being sarcastic. They are literally muffins. That's why they look like muffins."
You see, sometimes Jack asks really obvious questions and I have to remind myself that I'm actually quite fond of him.
But anyway, my parents are back from their holiday, we're having a BBQ later and I'm going to drink a shandy whilst driving everyone bonkers with my complaints about how hot it is.
Song of the Day: Leave A Trace by CHVRCHES (You talk far too much for someone so unkind/ I will wipe the salt off of my skin and I'll admit that I got it wrong/ And there is grey between the lines)
Currently Reading: Passenger by Alexandra Bracken
I feel like 2016 is some sort of cosmic joke, and if there's a parallel universe then it must be having the best year ever where something wonderful is happening every single day just to balance out the insanity that is this year in this universe. Every time I think it can't possibly get any worse, something else happens and it's exhausting.
You know how when you were at school, and sometimes if your class had been a bit noisy or some people had been acting up or whatever, and the teacher used to tell you all off as a collective instead of singling out the troublemakers? So you'd know that you personally can't really be in trouble because you didn't do anything, but the teacher's mad and you feel guilty anyway? That's sort of how I feel about Brexit.
The sun is finally out in England but I hate it already. I really love the idea of summer, but when it actually arrives, I can't cope with it. It's too hot. I never last for too long outside, I managed about an hour yesterday before retreating indoors for a cold shower. I can't help it, I just crave the cold and darkness, like the strange little hermit I am. I grew up in Saudi Arabia, this shouldn't be happening to me. Although in fairness, we had air-conditioning in Saudi, whereas here there is no escape and the heat just encompasses everything. It's like being in a hot bath you can't get out of. I hate it. Also I'm terrible at keeping myself hydrated so that probably doesn't help (I should really work on that).
Last week, Jack went to hunt down some ice cream, and he shouted to me, "What are these things in the freezer?"
Unable to see through walls, I called back, "What things?"
"The things that look like muffins."
"The muffins, you mean?"
There was a silence before his head popped back around the corner. "Alright, Sarcasmo," he said. He calls me that a lot. I answer a lot of Jack's questions with sarcasm and eye-rolls.
"I wasn't even being sarcastic. They are literally muffins. That's why they look like muffins."
You see, sometimes Jack asks really obvious questions and I have to remind myself that I'm actually quite fond of him.
But anyway, my parents are back from their holiday, we're having a BBQ later and I'm going to drink a shandy whilst driving everyone bonkers with my complaints about how hot it is.
Song of the Day: Leave A Trace by CHVRCHES (You talk far too much for someone so unkind/ I will wipe the salt off of my skin and I'll admit that I got it wrong/ And there is grey between the lines)
Currently Reading: Passenger by Alexandra Bracken
Watch where you're going
A bird crashed into my bedroom window yesterday evening. I know this because there's a distinct imprint on the glass. I can clearly make out a wing and a fat body and a head. Personally, I hope it was a pigeon. Whatever it was, it looks like it hurt.
I'm glad I wasn't in the room at the time because it would have scared the bejeezus out of me. It probably happened while I was downstairs watching The Prince of Egypt and weeping into my Ben & Jerry's (it's a very emotional movie). After I saw the evidence I checked outside to see if I had a dead bird on the patio, but there was nothing there, so I assume the daft creature still lives.
It made me think of a really old Alan Davies stand-up. He did a bit about his cats and there's a really funny bit involving a pigeon. I tracked it down on Youtube. You're welcome.
Song of the Day: Please Please Please by Shout Out Louds (It's getting darker and I know this time wasn't meant for us/ So won't you please, please, please come back to me)
I'm glad I wasn't in the room at the time because it would have scared the bejeezus out of me. It probably happened while I was downstairs watching The Prince of Egypt and weeping into my Ben & Jerry's (it's a very emotional movie). After I saw the evidence I checked outside to see if I had a dead bird on the patio, but there was nothing there, so I assume the daft creature still lives.
It made me think of a really old Alan Davies stand-up. He did a bit about his cats and there's a really funny bit involving a pigeon. I tracked it down on Youtube. You're welcome.
Song of the Day: Please Please Please by Shout Out Louds (It's getting darker and I know this time wasn't meant for us/ So won't you please, please, please come back to me)
Just keep swimming
I don't know about everyone else, but I'm currently feeling very anxious and uneasy about the current state of the world. During the last week, practically every day has been a bad news day, filled with events that I just can't wrap my head around. It's times like these when it really is incredibly easy to just lose all faith in humanity, at least if you've been paying attention.
But here's the thing: you have to go through life believing that people, in general and at heart, are inherently good. You have to. Because otherwise, what's the point in anything?
Anyway.
If you don't like what's going on in the real world, dive into an imaginary one instead! That's what I've been doing. I think I said on here way back at the start of the year that I was aiming to read 30 books in 2016. I set it up as an official goal on Goodreads so it was easier for me to keep track of how I was doing, and I actually started off really well. It didn't take me long to get ahead of schedule and I was feeling incredibly chuffed with myself. It didn't last, however, and I ended up in a gigantic reading slump and didn't even go on Goodreads for the longest time. When I finally did log back in it informed me that I was 5 books behind schedule, and I was like, "Whatever, Goodreads, I don't need this kind of negativity in my life," and promptly logged back out again.
For my birthday (I'm 27 now. I'm not all that psyched about it), Jack got me - among other things - 3 comic books. Or graphic novels, whatever you want to call them (I don't care). I read all of these in one day which took me to just 2 books behind schedule. Then I finally finished I Am The Messenger by Markus Zusak, which is fantastic, and then I read The Rest Of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness which I bought with some birthday money. I think my dad might have recommended it to me. He definitely recommended something by Patrick Ness. Either way, I really enjoyed it. But my point is that I am now back on track according to Goodreads! Hallelujah.
I'm currently making my way through the Grisha trilogy by Leigh Bardugo (I'm on book 2) which I initially had no interest in reading, but they were only 99p each on Kindle and I'm a sucker for a bargain, because I am my mother's daughter. I'm actually enjoying them more than I thought I would, although Six of Crows is much, much better. I read very quickly when I'm in the right mood for it, and lately I've been in the right mood, so I'm going to ride the wave while it lasts and see how far ahead of schedule I can get, which will be handy for when I inevitably fall into another slump.
Chins up, everyone. Stay safe.
Song of the Day: Midway by Bad Bad Hats (Midway between the end and the start/ I cried like a baby, I tore you apart)
But here's the thing: you have to go through life believing that people, in general and at heart, are inherently good. You have to. Because otherwise, what's the point in anything?
Anyway.
If you don't like what's going on in the real world, dive into an imaginary one instead! That's what I've been doing. I think I said on here way back at the start of the year that I was aiming to read 30 books in 2016. I set it up as an official goal on Goodreads so it was easier for me to keep track of how I was doing, and I actually started off really well. It didn't take me long to get ahead of schedule and I was feeling incredibly chuffed with myself. It didn't last, however, and I ended up in a gigantic reading slump and didn't even go on Goodreads for the longest time. When I finally did log back in it informed me that I was 5 books behind schedule, and I was like, "Whatever, Goodreads, I don't need this kind of negativity in my life," and promptly logged back out again.
For my birthday (I'm 27 now. I'm not all that psyched about it), Jack got me - among other things - 3 comic books. Or graphic novels, whatever you want to call them (I don't care). I read all of these in one day which took me to just 2 books behind schedule. Then I finally finished I Am The Messenger by Markus Zusak, which is fantastic, and then I read The Rest Of Us Just Live Here by Patrick Ness which I bought with some birthday money. I think my dad might have recommended it to me. He definitely recommended something by Patrick Ness. Either way, I really enjoyed it. But my point is that I am now back on track according to Goodreads! Hallelujah.
I'm currently making my way through the Grisha trilogy by Leigh Bardugo (I'm on book 2) which I initially had no interest in reading, but they were only 99p each on Kindle and I'm a sucker for a bargain, because I am my mother's daughter. I'm actually enjoying them more than I thought I would, although Six of Crows is much, much better. I read very quickly when I'm in the right mood for it, and lately I've been in the right mood, so I'm going to ride the wave while it lasts and see how far ahead of schedule I can get, which will be handy for when I inevitably fall into another slump.
Chins up, everyone. Stay safe.
Song of the Day: Midway by Bad Bad Hats (Midway between the end and the start/ I cried like a baby, I tore you apart)
When Emma met Jophie
I met Joe on my very first day of university back in September 2007. We lived on the same floor of the same halls of residence. I walked into the kitchen and there he was, drinking a beer already (or at least I think he was - in my memory there's definitely a bottle in his hand). He was funny and friendly (still is) and I liked him immediately.
Sophie, I didn't meet until the second semester. I was out on the town with my flatmates, and my friend Lydia had come with us. We were about to leave whatever bar or pub we were in and head to Pier Pressure (a club) when Lydia said she was going to head back because of the early morning lecture, which I had already decided I wasn't going to attend. Disappointed to lose Lydia's company, I pleaded with her to come with us, and she looked me dead in the eye with the air of a seasoned negotiator and said, "Okay then, Emma. If you come with me to the lecture at 9am tomorrow morning, I'll go to Pier with you." I agreed easily, satisfied that I had managed to get my own way and not worrying about my side of the bargain because that was a problem for future-me. I couldn't even get out of it either, as Lydia came by bright and early to personally escort me to my fate. So there I was, hungover, tired and irritable, being led into a lecture about medieval Germany or something by an annoyingly chipper Lydia, and she introduced me to Sophie, the friendliest person I have ever met.
As it happened, Sophie already knew Joe as they had some of the same classes, and to say that she was rather fond of him is putting it mildly. I'm not sure when exactly it came up that I not only knew Joe, but I lived with him - regardless, it was a happy coincidence, and Sophie and I gradually began to see more and more of each other as the year progressed.
I had a few people over to my house during the summer holidays for my birthday, Sophie and Joe included, and I can still remember standing in the kitchen in the morning making pancakes (or attempting to - I seem to recall some disagreements over how many eggs go in pancake batter), while Sophie, never one to hold back, gushed to me about Joe.
That was eight years ago. And on Saturday, I got to watch them get married.
There was a moment later on in the night, when I was on the dance floor surrounded by people I had gone to university with, and the band started to play Don't Stop Believin' by Journey, a song synonymous with our old Student Union, and it was like being hit by wave after wave of nostalgia. Dancing around in a big circle, singing our hearts out at the top of our lungs, and it was so bittersweet because uni feels like it was a lifetime ago, but at the same time it feels like it could have been last week. We were dancing to Journey at the union, then we blinked and we were dancing to Journey at Joe and Sophie's wedding. Time, man. It flies.
So this post is for Joe and Sophie. I've known them separately, and I've known them together, and I've never seen either as happy as they were on Saturday. I wish them all the love in the world.
Song of the Day: When You Were Young by The Killers (And sometimes you close your eyes and see the place where you used to live/ When you were young)
Sophie, I didn't meet until the second semester. I was out on the town with my flatmates, and my friend Lydia had come with us. We were about to leave whatever bar or pub we were in and head to Pier Pressure (a club) when Lydia said she was going to head back because of the early morning lecture, which I had already decided I wasn't going to attend. Disappointed to lose Lydia's company, I pleaded with her to come with us, and she looked me dead in the eye with the air of a seasoned negotiator and said, "Okay then, Emma. If you come with me to the lecture at 9am tomorrow morning, I'll go to Pier with you." I agreed easily, satisfied that I had managed to get my own way and not worrying about my side of the bargain because that was a problem for future-me. I couldn't even get out of it either, as Lydia came by bright and early to personally escort me to my fate. So there I was, hungover, tired and irritable, being led into a lecture about medieval Germany or something by an annoyingly chipper Lydia, and she introduced me to Sophie, the friendliest person I have ever met.
As it happened, Sophie already knew Joe as they had some of the same classes, and to say that she was rather fond of him is putting it mildly. I'm not sure when exactly it came up that I not only knew Joe, but I lived with him - regardless, it was a happy coincidence, and Sophie and I gradually began to see more and more of each other as the year progressed.
I had a few people over to my house during the summer holidays for my birthday, Sophie and Joe included, and I can still remember standing in the kitchen in the morning making pancakes (or attempting to - I seem to recall some disagreements over how many eggs go in pancake batter), while Sophie, never one to hold back, gushed to me about Joe.
That was eight years ago. And on Saturday, I got to watch them get married.
There was a moment later on in the night, when I was on the dance floor surrounded by people I had gone to university with, and the band started to play Don't Stop Believin' by Journey, a song synonymous with our old Student Union, and it was like being hit by wave after wave of nostalgia. Dancing around in a big circle, singing our hearts out at the top of our lungs, and it was so bittersweet because uni feels like it was a lifetime ago, but at the same time it feels like it could have been last week. We were dancing to Journey at the union, then we blinked and we were dancing to Journey at Joe and Sophie's wedding. Time, man. It flies.
So this post is for Joe and Sophie. I've known them separately, and I've known them together, and I've never seen either as happy as they were on Saturday. I wish them all the love in the world.
Song of the Day: When You Were Young by The Killers (And sometimes you close your eyes and see the place where you used to live/ When you were young)
Wasps are stupid, but also terrifying
It's getting towards summer now, which means at night time my windows are likely to be open. This also means that every once in a while, I will be awoken early in the morning by the buzzing sound of a very disgruntled wasp that has managed to fly through the window and can't figure out how to get back out.
Eventually, they always seem to sort it out and escape, but until they do, I can't really open the curtains. Because wasps aren't like bees. Bees are round and fuzzy and in general, less inclined to sting you. They're just trying to pollinate flowers and make honey. (Save the bees.) Wasps, on the other hand, are driven by hatred and incandescent rage. And when they get trapped, they become incensed. So when the idiotic creatures have managed to get themselves caught in between my curtains and my bedroom window, I can't even try and help by opening the windows wider because that involves opening the curtains. And if I do that, then a tiny, buzzing ball of pure fury will suddenly be directed at me.
When this happens I pretty much live in fear until the buzzing stops, then I have to hope that it has found the window and escaped and isn't just lulling me into a false sense of security. So yeah. I'm not a fan of wasps. They're like the geese of the insect world. (I hate geese, I cannot stress this enough.)
Song of the Day: I'm a little ashamed of this (let's call it a guilty pleasure song) but 80s Mercedes by Maren Morris was on some random Spotify playlist and I can't get it out of my head.
Eventually, they always seem to sort it out and escape, but until they do, I can't really open the curtains. Because wasps aren't like bees. Bees are round and fuzzy and in general, less inclined to sting you. They're just trying to pollinate flowers and make honey. (Save the bees.) Wasps, on the other hand, are driven by hatred and incandescent rage. And when they get trapped, they become incensed. So when the idiotic creatures have managed to get themselves caught in between my curtains and my bedroom window, I can't even try and help by opening the windows wider because that involves opening the curtains. And if I do that, then a tiny, buzzing ball of pure fury will suddenly be directed at me.
When this happens I pretty much live in fear until the buzzing stops, then I have to hope that it has found the window and escaped and isn't just lulling me into a false sense of security. So yeah. I'm not a fan of wasps. They're like the geese of the insect world. (I hate geese, I cannot stress this enough.)
Song of the Day: I'm a little ashamed of this (let's call it a guilty pleasure song) but 80s Mercedes by Maren Morris was on some random Spotify playlist and I can't get it out of my head.
I'm aliiiiiive!
I've long given up feeling like I have to apologise whenever I'm absent from this blog for an extended period of time - it is what it is, and I know that it's here for me to return to whenever I see fit. Usually when I want to talk about books or music or something cool I found on the internet.
My friend Sophie had her hen-do a couple of weekends ago and we went to Alton Towers, which was fun, but it did reaffirm the fact that I am not a roller-coaster person, as much as I'd like to be. The last time I was there I did go on Oblivion and decided never again, but the Smiler wasn't there last time. I took one look at it and said "nope." Which was a good thing, really, because Soph said it was, and I quote, "vomit-inducing."
Park aside, we got to stay in the most adorable little lodges, ate tapas (and drank copious amounts of sangria) at a local pub where we were served by the friendliest staff I have ever come across, and got to have afternoon tea the following day at the Alton Towers hotel. There was also a spa trip but I forgot my swimming costume, it didn't even occur to me to take it, I'm not sure why. This is clearly a very 'me' thing to do because when I was telling my mum about it afterwards, she said "Oh Emma" in a very mum-like way. I didn't mean to. But anyway, in lieu of the spa, I went back into the park with a couple of others and had a wander around and went to the aquarium. And anyone who knows me knows that I love a good aquarium. What a lovely weekend, can't wait for the wedding now.
On Saturday, it was my brother's 30th birthday, which I'm struggling to get my head around. He's in America, so I didn't get to see him, but I did post this picture on his Facebook wall, just so he knows I care, and to remind him of the days when he was nice to me and not annoying me from thousands of miles away. (It should be noted that I don't actually know how many miles away he is. I was going to say millions, but that seems excessive. It feels far, anyhow.)
So yeah, Saturday was James's birthday. But that is not all it was. Saturday was also Eurovision day, that wonderfully weird event that comes but once a year.
Eurovision is incredibly difficult to describe to the uninitiated. I think it's the kind of thing you have to experience to understand. I have a sort of morbid fascination with Eurovision - I never really mean to watch it, but somehow I nearly always end up doing just that. It's like a trainwreck, I just can't look away. Although I will say that this year was relatively tame on the whole, compared to previous years.
I felt a bit bad for the British boys, who ended up coming third from last (I think? Can't quite remember), when their song was actually objectively one of the better ones. But I suppose it's par for the course and we never do all that well. It's all good fun and I hope they didn't take it to heart.
My personal favourite was the entry from France, it was super catchy and I'm disappointed he didn't win.
C'est la vie.
Currently reading: I Am The Messenger by Markus Zusak. Loving it so far.
Song of the Day: Australia by The Shins (You'll be damned to pining through the windowpanes/ You know you'd trade your life for any ordinary Joe/ Well do it now or grow old/ Your nightmares only need a year or two to unfold)
My friend Sophie had her hen-do a couple of weekends ago and we went to Alton Towers, which was fun, but it did reaffirm the fact that I am not a roller-coaster person, as much as I'd like to be. The last time I was there I did go on Oblivion and decided never again, but the Smiler wasn't there last time. I took one look at it and said "nope." Which was a good thing, really, because Soph said it was, and I quote, "vomit-inducing."
Park aside, we got to stay in the most adorable little lodges, ate tapas (and drank copious amounts of sangria) at a local pub where we were served by the friendliest staff I have ever come across, and got to have afternoon tea the following day at the Alton Towers hotel. There was also a spa trip but I forgot my swimming costume, it didn't even occur to me to take it, I'm not sure why. This is clearly a very 'me' thing to do because when I was telling my mum about it afterwards, she said "Oh Emma" in a very mum-like way. I didn't mean to. But anyway, in lieu of the spa, I went back into the park with a couple of others and had a wander around and went to the aquarium. And anyone who knows me knows that I love a good aquarium. What a lovely weekend, can't wait for the wedding now.
On Saturday, it was my brother's 30th birthday, which I'm struggling to get my head around. He's in America, so I didn't get to see him, but I did post this picture on his Facebook wall, just so he knows I care, and to remind him of the days when he was nice to me and not annoying me from thousands of miles away. (It should be noted that I don't actually know how many miles away he is. I was going to say millions, but that seems excessive. It feels far, anyhow.)
So yeah, Saturday was James's birthday. But that is not all it was. Saturday was also Eurovision day, that wonderfully weird event that comes but once a year.
Eurovision is incredibly difficult to describe to the uninitiated. I think it's the kind of thing you have to experience to understand. I have a sort of morbid fascination with Eurovision - I never really mean to watch it, but somehow I nearly always end up doing just that. It's like a trainwreck, I just can't look away. Although I will say that this year was relatively tame on the whole, compared to previous years.
I felt a bit bad for the British boys, who ended up coming third from last (I think? Can't quite remember), when their song was actually objectively one of the better ones. But I suppose it's par for the course and we never do all that well. It's all good fun and I hope they didn't take it to heart.
My personal favourite was the entry from France, it was super catchy and I'm disappointed he didn't win.
C'est la vie.
Currently reading: I Am The Messenger by Markus Zusak. Loving it so far.
Song of the Day: Australia by The Shins (You'll be damned to pining through the windowpanes/ You know you'd trade your life for any ordinary Joe/ Well do it now or grow old/ Your nightmares only need a year or two to unfold)
