Roll on the 07

Sometimes I feel I have changed beyond recognition. My life has changed beyond recognition. There is a big difference in the posts that I wrote early in this blog and the posts I'm posting now.

I guess it's because now I'm an adult.

Now I'm alone, with no support.

Things have gone wrong and I realise truly, for the first time, that no-one gives a toss. You're out there on your own. You can't rely on anybody. The only person who will see you through is yourself.

The majority of people, basically, underneath their nicey-nice exterior, that facade they present to the world, are basically shits.

Computer Woes

The laptop is NOT fixed.

Yesterday's euphoria "yes! It works! I can have it on for half an hour without it crashing!" has burst; It has crashed well over 5 times today alone.

Only yesterday it worked fine, but today it is throwing a tantrum.

The problem is worse than ever; there are messages popping up that Systamec, bluetooth, word, webcam, Quicktime and numerous applications I'm not even running and have never run have encountered problems and must shut down. It cannot possibly be a virus; my entire computer was wiped only two days ago and I haven't connected to Broadband since. I am not connected to the internet; I have not uploaded any software; the bloody thing was restored to factory settings only yesterday.

The messages that pop up concern "total memory failure" "driver errors" and other jargon that I cannot possibly comprehend.

All I have done is played DVDs and gone on Works Suite to write an essay.

I have left three messages at John Lewis, spoken to three separate people since 9AM through to 3PM requesting that someone please call me back to help solve this problem.

There has been no response.

Would it be completely out of line that I return the computer to John Lewis and request either A) a replacement model or B) a total refund?

It's terrible that I have to resort to this, but the fault is so pronounced that I can't use my laptop without it crashing every 5 minutes and seing as it's doing it even in Safe Mode AND with full factory restore I hardly think it's something that I've done.

It is RIDICULOUS that I have spent £800 (two years worth of savings) on a laptop for this to happen after two months and no-one is helping me. I SPECIFICALLY bought a good laptop; I did weeks of research; bought it from a reputable shop which offered two years warranty. As for John Lewis turning round, telling me that they "couldn't get it to crash; we've run a full system scan; there's nothing wrong with your computer; the only option available to you is factory restore"...well, that's just plain bollocks.

How do I get them to believe me?

At the minute I feel like I am beating my head against a brick wall...while time marches on and I still don't have a (usable) laptop.

Teamwork

I know that, in the far distant future, this will be a big problem for me. I know that I'm going to get turned down from that dream job because of it. I know that I am an intolerant, moody, harsh, judgemental *Insert noun of your choice here*

But I simply cannot do teamwork.

At highschool, when the teacher announced that we had to work in groups, I would pray that there would be an odd number in the class so that I would have a legitimate excuse to work by myself and I wouldn't have to be paired with someone else.

At primary school out would come the plaintive cry: "I want to write- Becky's writing so slowly- Here! Give it to me! I can do it better!"

Yeah. I'm glad my parents didn't name me "Patience" or "Harmony" or "Melody" or any of those other sickly-sweet girly names, because boy would that have been a misjudgement of my character. Most of the time I can keep a lid on my intolerance, but those odd little times, when we're asked to work in groups or complete an assignment using teamwork, those times, you know what I mean, then uh-oh. Out creep the sarcastic little comments, "Oh wow, making our science project electric game out of copper, which would, hmm, I don't know, electrocute the customer, is such a good idea!!" or the "Oh-My-God-I-Can't-Believe-I've-Been-Stuck-With-Such-A-Bunch-Of-Losers" expression crosses my face and I sit there, arms folded, defiantly refusing to accept their (frankly stupid!) ideas. It's not even limited to teamwork- similar thoughts pop into my mind at my flamates' idiocity: God, who on earth keeps lurpack in the CUPBOARD for five weeks after purchase and still uses it?? Or Yes, generally if a pack of clingfilm says "do not heat" on the side, then it's hardly a surprise that it's melted and burnt all over your chilli beans in the oven is it??"

It's not pretty.

I told you at the start: this is going to get me into trouble.

So this wasn't a good thing when we had to work in groups on my Poetry Lecture yesterday to pen a Sonnet. Not a good thing at all. The start of the poem was "If men were mice..." which, let's give us credit, was not a particularly easy opening to base a Shakespearean Sonnet on. Anyhow, "we" (or should I say them) after 15 minutes debate finally reached the conclusion of the line, ending with "but men are lions". Then the tricky part. What rhymes with lions? "Irons!" One bright spark proferred forth. "Yeah! Wow! That's Amazing! I like it!" bottle blonde nodded enthusiastically, while chomping like a cow on a wad of gum. "Ok...how can we get irons in?" I had tired of the entire premise and by this time was at the eye-rolling, when-will-this-torture-end??!! stage. "Irons is completely ridiculous," I drawled laconically (well, that's what it sounded like in my head, but probably sounded nothing like it) "and doesn't fit with the premise AT ALL. How about we change the word 'lions' as nothing will fit with that on the ABAB rhyme scheme."

My compatriots, gaping, looked at me like I was from outer space (which I very well may be, at times like this I seem to feel like it).

"No way! Lions and Irons is just so-so inspirational!!" The bottle blonde gushed. The other members shot me dirty looks before turning back to the poem to contemplate their next nonsensical line.

Which is how I came to end up working by myself, as usual.

Dilemma

I need some advice:

The "one and only, biggest Cuth's event of the year" Epiphany Ball.

OR

£50 remain in my pocket and I use it (towards) going inter-railing/ travelling abroad/ Going to France to help with my French studies at some later date in the year.

What do you think?

Bearing in mind that I've already got a swish gown (two in fact!) BUT £50 is the equivalent of my budget for two weeks.

Cheap day return to Newcastle please

I sat on Durham station, attired in my thick black winter coat, magenta scarf and stripy matching gloves. My laptop bag was strung over my shoulder, a pristine envelope wrapped tuna subway melt occupying one hand, ready and waiting to be enjoyed on the train. It was two o'clock and, breakfast naught but a distant memory, while the banana I'd hastily scoffed inbetween rushing from Lang Power to a History Seminar had long been digested, my stomach grumbled in anticipation.

It was a tricky decision, but one that had to be made. Should I unwrap the sandwich, take one bite and then the train arrive, leaving me to haul two heavy bags and a half-eaten sub (not easy) on the train? Or should I starve a little longer and wait to enjoy on the train?

Difficult.

Bt the decision was taken out of my hands when my phone, currently lost in the depths of my coat pockets, vibrated violently, announcing that I had a text. Sandwich dilemma forgotten, I rooted around in my left pocket for the offending thing. It's amazing what lost treasures I unearthed in that pocket.

Keys to door, flat and entire accommodation building...(could be useful)...One balled up mitten...(red and two sizes too small, definitely not mine, don't ask me why it was in my pocket)...one fluff coated half-eaten cookie from a week ago (an unexpected tasty treat, I no longer have many compunctions about what I eat- a cookie is a cookie after all)...a plethora of Iceland receipts...oh and that's where my photocopying card went! The mobile was finally located and I was poring over the text when the train arrived.

I glanced up, briefly. Edinburgh Waverly...nah, not mine...it's going to Edinburgh...funny, I could have sworn a minute ago the announcement for platform 2 was Newcastle...hang on a minute...

Damn it!

That is my train!

Enter girl running faster than she's possibly ever ran before across platform, laden like a pack horse to get on train while doors are beeping, just before (literally!) the doors slide shut.

--------

So why was I going to Newcastle laden like a packhorse with a laptop and a subway melt on Friday at two o'clock? You may ask.

The answer is, simply:

My bloody HP laptop. (Insert multitude of curse words here).

That laptop is the BANE of my life. It's not because of the blue screen of death.

It's not because of the frequent crashes.

It's not because I had two (TWO!!) comp sci students look at it and neither could offer me a solution and suggested taking it back to John Lewis'.

Oh no. It's because that laptop is tempramental. It's sneaky that laptop is. It can't be trusted.

You know what it did?

I'm going to tell you what it did.

It, while crashing non-stop for me, decided to behave for the John Lewis tech people servicing it, and didn't . crash . once . I got a voicemail yesterday informing me that "there's nothing wrong whatsoever with my laptop".

Why? Why??? Whhhhyyyy???? I thought we were friends laptop!!! I thought you liked me!!! Why have you betrayed me like this???!!!!! Why, oh why couldn't you show your pretty bright blue messages of "Windows has been shut down to prevent serious error being sustained to your computer" or "THREAD_STUCK_IN_DEVICE_DRIVER" or "PAGE_FAULT_IN_NON_PAGED_AREA" and reams of codes to the kind people at John Lewis who could actually SOLVE these problems??? Do you hate me??? Do you want to punish me???

I am bereft.

I loved that laptop, really I did.

My confidence has been betrayed.

Lets just hope the full Windows wipe and restore to factory conditions will fix the horrid-blue-screen problem.

In the meantime we're on a trial period, the laptop and I.

I just don't know whether we can continue from here...

Home sweet home

"Mmmm, God that's great," I mumble to nobody in particular in between wolfing down forkfuls of cheese loaded tortilla with lumps of ham, peppers, onions and tomato, spiced with tomato salsa.

"That's only because you haven't had to cook it," Mum cocks a sardonic eyebrow.

"True...but a proper lunch is damned good- better than the toast and peanut butter that I've been surviving on every lunchtime, anyway," I concede.

I came back to Manchester yesterday. The train was 45 minutes late, I'm gnashing my teeth over the poor dial up internet connection (Uni is spiffy quicker than quick Broadband) and I had to tote home a bunch of work for a test on Monday...but boy, being home is damned good.

*Stretches languously, knowing she doesn't have to cook or wash up for the near future...well for the next two days anyway...*

Behind the times

"Ok, take out your Donne Holy Sonnets," the lecturer boomed. Red faced, still flushed and panting slightly from the exertion of rushing from Elvet Riverside all the way up the hill to the Science Site, I stared at him incomprehensibly. Holy Sonnets? What Holy Sonnets?

Out of my peripheral vision I saw the person sitting next to me smugly pull out several weighty volumes, together with a sheaf of print-outs.

"I'm sorry, are there handouts?" I whisper, concerned to her. "I seem to have missed them."

She shoots me a distainful look, before tossing her long perfectly ironed tresses smugly. (Don't ask me how it is possible to toss hair smugly, but believe me, this was definitely smug hair tossing).

"Oh no, these are the lecture slides which I found on DUO and printed out this morning in preparation", she enlightens me, with a mega-watt whiter than white smile.

I glance into my bag, hoping, just hoping that I may have sleepwalked, accessed DUO (Durham University Online for anyone wondering at this curious abbreviation) and printed off a whole sheaf of notes too, but to no avail. Zilch. Yeah, it was an ambitious hope, seeing as I haven't even discovered where to download lecture slides from while I'm conscious, but a girl can hope, can't she?

I slump down into my chair, wishing I had ran a bit faster across town and hadn't been five minutes late into a crowded lecture theatre and had to take the only vacant seat- a seat on the very first row, right beneath the beady eye of the lecturer, sans Holy Sonnets, while resolving to catch up on the lecture in the afternoon and throroughly acquaint myself with Donne's poetry.

This pattern is ever so slightly worrying. Worrying because this isn't the first time it's happened. At pratically every poetry lecture, new terms are bandied around and, while fellow students nod sagely, I glance aorund bewildered, the only thought crossing my mind being "What's going on? Have I missed something? Has there been an extra lecture that I've not attended?" I feel like I'm behind pace, even though I am working- really I am. I'm trying, and fitting in study hours, library hours, language centre hours throughout the day, but for the first time in my life, working isn't enough. I'm not achieving enough. My reading, even though I've read two books on Donne already, never seems to be enough or, more importantly, on the right topics. In my History Seminar last week, I searched on the internet for several hours for two consecutive days, as well as reading three books on Tecumseh and Prophet, only to find that my reading was literally blown away and my arguments and thoughts demolished by fellow history students, who were better informed, more eloquent and more confident than me. Whereas I had visions of being able to speak confidently in the tutorials and get the most out of them, now I find the words sticking in my throat and I am reluctant to profer forth any of my ideas for fear of people thinking I'm an uninformed idiot.

Now don't get me wrong, I love this course. I LOVE this course. Apart from poetry, which is the module I feel the most "at sea" in, I'm convinced I've chosen the right thing and I'm at the right institution. Sound Text and Image (basically History of Art) is SO interesting, in that it ties together everything I've been doing. I'm being challenged in French; the lectures for English are organised and provocative, encouraging independent thought; I'm interested in what we're doing in History and the lecturer is really good. Even with poetry at least I haven't resorted to skipping lectures in avoidance or breaking down in tears due to feeling inadequate, like some contemporaries have done. I may be being premature, we're only four weeks in, there's still time to change this worrying pattern. What worries me though is the fact that it isn't going to get better: with essay deadlines already looming at the start of December for FIVE modules out of the six I'm taking, it's only going to get worse.

Never have I felt more more lacking or more in need of a Superhuman ability to demolish books.

My new mantra is: work, work, work and organisation, organisation, organisation!

On a positive note: it looks like I will be joining another choir: St Chad's, which will hopefully give me the additional singing practice I need and maybe help me to feel that I'm not losing my music entirely.