The Eleven O’Clock News: Dog Snuggles Help Students.

Recently I’ve been the sort of busy that makes me think of people in the City clutching Starbucks at six am with their clacking heels and superduper handbags and eighteen hour days. I don’t have the clacking heels and I’m working on finding the perfect handbag but eighteen hour days are becoming quite normal. Which is okay, because it means that Life Stuff is happening. You know, writing essays and making plans and trying to find the ideal washing machine/tumble drier time system.

Don’t overload the washing machine; your jeans will take two days to drip dry because tumble driers aren’t actually a gift from God.

Anyway, that’s all good. I can go to bed with a sense of achievement, you know, because I’ve revised so well that my grey cells are dancing and I’m organising my homework properly and I can sleep knowing that this is life, ladies and gentlemen, and I am living it to the full with every one of those eighteen hours used to their maximum potential…

Except they’re not because a) I can’t sleep properly, which means that b) between the hours of ten and twelve and four and seven I am basically a zombie, which means that c) I’m consuming twice as much caffeine and sugar as usual to work properly, which means that d) I can’t sleep properly. I’m also starting to worry about my arteries.

Oh and it’s affecting my concentration. During the making of this post I have so far taken two BBC quizzes, made my bed, checked Tumblr and Googled handbags. It’s getting to the point where sitting still, quietly, isn’t an option – I’ve had Sherlock on in the background while I work for the last week (all live TV has adverts, which means I’ll switch over, which means I’ll get even more distracted). So is it that if I learnt to concentrate or made myself work fewer hours I’d find it easier to concentrate and therefore work fewer hours?

You know what, these handbags are cutsie.

Right, right, the news.

Well, some universities have provided opportunities for students to cuddle animals as a way to combat stress. I know for a fact that dog snuggles are an excellent method for coping with anything, except maybe fleas, so well done universities for cottoning on. I did a few searches about meditation, which I do because Emma Watson suggested an app on Twitter that is actually incredibly helpful (except I keep forgetting to do it) and there seems to be a general consensus that mindfulness is good. Plus nobody has any, possibly because we’re all watching Sherlock while filing papers and triple-checking our iPads for work-related emails. Apparently stress-related illness is now such a big thing that companies have decided it’s in their interest to promote healthy living – some are even investing in gadgets that measure employees’ stress levels.

Hmm.

You know, I’m not quite sure what I’m trying to say here, because busy people struggling with being busy isn’t exactly up there with the Syrian refugee crisis or potential CAR genocide. It’s marginally more interesting than, say, Bieber getting arrested… but a large part of me knows that if I turned off all my electrics, tidied up the trail of crap I’ve left around the house and went for a run (don’t look at me like that, Tim says it’s a good idea), things would be better. Less existential angst, less chance of contracting a cold and more productivity for my time. Possibly with more time spent sleeping, or giving Sherlock my undivided attention.

Remind me that I have a really great header for a blog post that involves Benedict Cumberbatch’s film career. I was going to use it in a six degrees of separation post about King Lear.

Okay, I’d better turn off all my electrics and pencil in time for a run. Thoughts about how to be busy and well and sleep occasionally?

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Occasional Tea and Rarely-Spotted Cake

Lately I’ve been having a bit of a problem with starting posts and not finishing them so I’ve made a cup of tea to help with the old creative juices. I’ve consumed more today than I usually do in a month (tea is for socialising and coffee is for work; I have at least one coffee at least six days a week) although I was drinking it in a Politics lesson under the guise of working… Although to be honest, Friday Week A last period has always been a bit of a guise, especially when we did voting systems and had to count.

Today was a tea and cake lesson, because it is correct, when one reads a newspaper, to drink tea – especially if one is in a class with twenty other people and international relations needs to be taught. It was also my teacher’s last ever lesson in my school because it’s more fun/intellectually stimulating for him to finish his PhD and work in Malaysia instead of sitting in a classroom in deepest Essex explaining the history of the Liberal Democrats to seventeen-year-olds. Can’t think why. So instead of discussing international relations we gave him presents. Ah, summer.

This hot drink thing really is conducive to work… When I said tea is for socialising, I temporarily ignored my reasonably frequent coffee shop stops with Ellen and/or Isobel when we huddle in a corner of Costa and discuss everyone we’ve ever met in great detail. I do think, however, that if there were a tea shop in our high street we’d go to that instead. Actually there is a tea shop and I’ve been there once. Well, Ellen doesn’t like hot drinks anyway; maybe we should spread our custom around a bit.

Eeyore in Costa

There’s actually a great building just off the main shops that part of me wants to buy, do up and convert into a bookshop and tea and coffee place. I think it’d specialise in second-hand books, and there would be a ‘bring a book, take a book’ system for people with cash flow problems (which is everyone). The teas and coffees would also be suitable for those with special dietary needs (which isn’t everyone but I flipping miss eating those almond biscuits you sometimes get on your saucer). There would maybe be a space for art shows and one for people to just sit and read for as long as they want as long as they purchase a beverage.

I think I may have just invented the library.

Hail Frank’s Impending Brain Apocalypse.

  I have had been reading Chantal Claret’s blogs on www.morningwoodrocks.com and she is awesome. Crazy, talented and honest. Plus she has tre cool hair. Anyway, she has inspired me to write a blog on here and I thought I’d fill you in with stuff that’s gone on during this topsy-turvy day.

  My Dad went away earlier, I have no idea why or where, probably business, for a couple of days, but I don’t think I’ll miss him because we exchange an average of two words a week.

  My mother is at my parents’ evening at school, which I refused to attend on the basis my teachers won’t say what they think of me if I am sitting right there, sneaky buggers.

  I am fracking exhausted. This is because of my self-inflicted  idiocy. I have my VERY FIRST I’MA-CRAP-MY-SKINNIES SCIENCE GCSES on Friday week (the 5th, if you care). I am trying to revise lots as I am ‘conscinecious’. Translation: I am a sucker for karma. So I’ve been making notes on the old Edexel CD-textbook thing and haven’t had much time to write, which automatically means my brain has a period. Bits of my skull collapse in on themselves, I am not making this up. I have also discovered Percy Jackson. I saw the movie last week. My brother loves the books, has for years, and I read a bit of Lightning Thief before he found me with it and yelled at me, so I kinda-sorta-pretended I knew plot of the film. By the way, the Percy actor is not twelve. He has his shirt off in the first scene. Anyway, I borrowed the first book from Maxim (gave him Fang) and got addicted. The second book is on my desk right now. I want to read it but I know if I sit in bed with it I will consider sleep a tool for mere mortals and not bother with it. This is bad.

  I am now an irritable, hungry (get hungry when I’m stressed) ‘munchkin’.

  Cannot belive it is only Wednesday, I have a karate grading on the twentieth, Duke of Edinburgh stuff to do (SPONSOR ME FOR THE RACE FOR LIFE. CLICK THE WIDGET. DONATE. I WILL WRITE YOU A HAIKU) and I’m getting depressed. I get depressed when I’m stressed to, which is why I am treating you to a crappy emo-rant.

  Was going to write my version of the ten commandments, but… Actually, what the hell. Here goes:

How to Live Your Life According to Me

  • If there’s no faith, there’s no point.
  • There is always faith, no matter what it is in (and whether or not it is good or bad). So, even if you’re a genocidal madman who is being manhunted by the CIA and you think you want to hang yourself, there is always hope, even if it is in your beard or your nuclear weapons of mass destruction. You’ve shaved or had your nukes stolen? See number one, you may as well find a skipping rope and some rafters.
  • Karma is very real. So:
  • Bad things happen to bad people. However,
  • The only person who can make you feel guilty is yourself. If you do something that you know in your heart is wrong (at least according to your morals) you will suffer in life and death. Basically, you set your own standards. Same goes with being ‘good’.
  • People go where they want to when they die, and death will come in whatever form you want it to. Grim Reaper, Pearly Gates, The Black Parade, etc.

  That is my list of Honest Truths (written in RS, of course) and I am glad I posted them because I am sure they will be different when I am twenty or eighty or married or in prison or whatever and I need a record. Will forget to transcript into my diary…

  By the way, I heard a rumour that people read this. It makes me feel loved the way a prostitute wants to feel loved, so please comment, even if it’s to tell me that you won’t donate to my Race for Life/Duke of Ed. cause because I am a rude muthafrackin’ little toss pot who needs a slap in the goddamn face.

  Told you I was tired. When I regain full conscienceless I will regret ever logging on here.