My arm hurts, I'm tired, I'm p*ssed off and my shoes broke

My arm hurts
I went to yoga last night after a two week break. The yoga lady was more cruel than usual and kept forcibly bending my body into unnatural, painful positions and then saying "Yes! Like that! Now hold for 8 breaths! I said hold!!". I'm always a bit achey after yoga but last night was something else. I woke up this morning and couldn't even lift my hairbrush my arm hurt so much. I've had to keep it close to my chest because even allowing it to dangle by my side really hurts. If it wasn't for the fact that yoga is great for stretching out my muscles after I've been lifting in the weights room and that I want to be able to do the splits both ways come James' birthday in April, I would give up.

I'm tired
Since I've got back from Rome I've been knackered, despite having 2 early nights and staying away form alcohol. Either sleeping in the airport for 8 hours has longlasting effects or I'm just generally run down.

I'm p*ssed off
At everyone, about everything. I just want to be left alone to stay under the duvet all day. It f*cks me off that:
(a) My sister owes me so much money but yet never fulfills her promises to pay me back.
(b) That my sister moved to Manchester after ignoring everyone who told her it was a bad idea and then couldn't afford to pay her rent and then had to move back home and in so doing kicked me out of my bedroom so her and her noisy kids could use it meaning I have to share with my moody sister at the age of 22.
(c) That I do laundry at home, leave it in the clean laundry pile and then get back home and half of it is missing and everyone promises they haven't borrowed it without my permission i.e. stolen it.
(d) That my bank won't give me a one month holiday period for my student loan so that I have enough money for travelling.
(e) I'm not as skinny as I want to be, my legs are dry and the beautician who did my brazilian left loads of stray bits so it just looks silly.

My shoes broke
By the time I walked to the station today my feet were soaking wet. Wondering why, I looked down at my soles to discover that they were hanging off by a thread. How that happened from this morning to this evening, I don't know. I decided to go shopping for shoes right away only to discover that:
(a) Dorothy Perkins had no size 5 shoes left. What. The. F*ck. Thats like the most common shoe size! What's the point in having MASSIVE posters saying "20% OFF EVERYTHING" and then having a crap supply of products??
(b) Next did have shoes in a size 5 but despite the fact that I am a small size 5 I couoldn't fit them. And of course they had sold out of size 5 and a halfs in the 4 pairs of shoes I was willing to buy.
(c) New Look sell shite shoes.

At that point I gave up.

Rome

Rome was amazing! We visited all the old ruins and even attended a papal address at the Vatican. We tried to climb to the top of St Peter's Basilica but James, bless him, felt faint half-way up and we had to come back down, passing old ladies headed to the top. I must say, I do feel a bit smug that I spent a whole 5 days with James and not only didn't want to kill him but still love him. It was definately a brilliant way to celebrate the anniversary of the date we first met - can't believe it's been a year already AND haven't got a clue what to do next year to top this! But, as always, you get what you pay for with budget airlines. On the way back we had boarded the plane when, after about 30 minutes, we were asked to get off again because there was a problem with the engine (why did it take so long for them to spot this??). The flight was delayed SIX HOURS and anyone who has been to Ciampino knows that after reading 3 magazines, playing rock paper scissors and 'I spy', there is nothing to do there for six hours. I will NEVER EVER fly with them again (I know I said that last time).

Ciao!

I'm off for a long weekend to Rome with James. Cia bellas!

Pack Your Bags

I'm travelling alone next year for two months. I have only just decided my route but I'm pretty scared about how I'll fare on my own. My mode of travel between each country will be buses and trains and I'll be camping on designated sites or bush camping most of the way through (considering that I refuse to go to Glastonbury because I don't like being dirty, this is my idea of being brave). I told my mum about my plans and she keeps telling me I won't come back alive. Note to self: Parents do not need to know everything. It's not just my mum though, everyone I've spoken to has encouraged me to book an organised tour with a reputable company as they all think I won't be okay alone. I am shying away from booking a tour because 1) I quite like the idea of being independent 2) I can think of nothing worse than being stuck with people I don't like for two months and 3) I don't like the idea of giving so much money to a big company, I would rather give it to the locals where I am travelling.

There's a picture below showing my general route. Let me know if you have travelled this route before with or without a tour operator or know somebody who has.

Bon Iver

I have spent the last week listening to Bon Iver's For Emma Forever Ago. Emotional as f*ck doesn't describe it. Bon Iver broke up with his girlfriend and he was so affected he left his home, his friends and band to live in a cabin in the woods for several months. Whilst there he wrote For Emma. I have never heard heartbreak articulated so well. It makes me want to cry because it takes me right back to the time when I broke up with Derek last year. Lyrics like "Someday my pain will mark you" and "Solace my game, it stars you" (The Wolves Act I and II) for some reason just cut right through me. He's playing at the Victoria Apollo for one night only in December. I've bought the tickets for James as a Christmas present (he intro'd me to it).

Battle of the Bulge

On the 1st of October I decided to make my New Year's resolutions early. Instead of reaching the New Year and feeling like, I have once again, not achieved the goals I set myself, I decided to start working on the resolution now. Predictably, my resolution was to hit the gym and lose half a stone. I have been going 3 times a week now and I have still not lost weight. My body fat percentage is 5% lower (yes, I know that muscle weighs more than fat) but the bloody scales still aren't shifting!! It's so frustrating that I just want to give up. I just don't understand why I can't lose 7 pounds when you constantly hear about people losing 7 stone in the same time period. What's even more annoying is that the more I think about it, the hungrier I get, the more I want a nice yummy curry.

President Obama

This morning I woke up too scared to switch my TV on. James tried to get me to stay up all night with him to watch the results roll in but I gave up at 2am. I then heard my seven year old niece singing "Obama! Obama!" as she was getting ready for school and I knew that Americans had finally done the right thing, why the hell else would a seven year old know who Obama was? The 'finally' in that statement might seem a tad harsh but we have to remember that I am not alone in having spent the last 8 years shaking my head at the thought that Bush was actually elected and did not stage some elaborately planned coup. I honestly never thought I would live to see a black president outside of 24. While I'm loathe to focus on the fact that Obama is black, one cannot deny just how momentous the election of Barack Obama is for black people around the world.

As Cleopatra Jones said, thank God the world will finally see an entirely different view of black culture and life that doesn't revolve around guns, drugs or hip hop.

My one wish is that we, in Britain could be so interested in our own politics.

Now, lets all pray he doesn't fuck it up and that he really does have the best security team protecting him.

Living Problems

I don't plan on blogging about James a lot. Aside from being boring for you lot, first, I don't think it sets a good precedent and second, I'm thinking about letting him read the blog.

James and his flatmate had a big bust up last night. I stay over at James' 2-3 times a week. James never stays at mine because I live at home. The flatmate stays at his boyfriend's about 3 times a week. Raising this issue for the second time in 6 weeks, the flatmate argued that he should only pay for 4 days a week worth of utility bills and either James or I should subsidise the remaining cost. The fact that the flatmate lives in the same complex as his boyfriend therefore allowing him to easily stay over there doesn't figure in the flatmate's mind.

Now this has made me super mad. Especially the accusation that I'm getting a cushy deal by staying at James' rent-free for 2-3 nights a week. I have lived with several people and this kind of arrangement has never been an issue. It's pretty normal and is just the flatmate's way of trying to save a buck at the cost of a friendship. The horrible thing is that now I don't even want to go over there so in a way he's got his way anyway.

Am I wrong?

Thrifty Living

I never seem to have any money. This is real bad as I want to travel next summer, and apparantly, this requires money. After googling "make money fast - legal", I hit on the ebay idea. I have started selling all the crap my ex gave me: brand new boots that were too high, a watch that I can't wear anymore, another pair of boots that were too big, a cape I would never have worn, gold cuff links he left on my drawer and so on. (The fact that so many of the ex's presents lay unworn/untouched shows just how little he knew me!). I now have a rule: if I want to buy something, I have to sell something first to cover the cost. It's working brilliantly! I've made £60 in two weeks. Why oh why did I never think of ebay before?

Another money-making idea I came up with is car boot sales. I used to love these when I was little. Of course when I was little I wasn't nursing a hangover on Sunday morning and was happy to be up at the crack of dawn. But still, it's a great way to clear out your house. Over dinner, I asked my mother if I could clear out her closet. She almost fainted at the offer but quickly came around again when I told her I wanted to sell the stuff I clear out!

Of course, all my efforts were ruined when I discovered a receipt for £40 worth of cocktails tucked into my jeans from Saturday night.

Any other money-making ideas welcome.

Blast from the Past

Isn't it funny how when things are going great, a blast from the past pops up and makes an unwanted appearance? On Sunday morning, James and I were in bed watching X Factor when I got this text from Kate, one of my best friend's from uni:

"Shit im going to forward you a text I just got, thought you should know x x x"

[Kate forwarded this]

"Hello, Kate? Just scrolling through my phone book & found your number. Just wonderrd if you still existed & if you're ok? So, who the hell is this? It's ... Derek X"

[Kate then sent this]

"It's such a bizarre text. Hope you don't mind me telling you, I didn't want to not tell you. Should I reply? x"

To say that this was completely unexpected and threw me would be an understatement. I couldn't even really process the information because I was with James. I must have looked so shocked because he snatched my mobile from me and read the texts. He just asked who Derek was. I told him and asked him whether or not I should tell Kate to reply. He said to tell Kate to just ignore the text. James being James didn't mention it again and seemed completely undisturbed by it. I did mention later that if the tables had been turned I would have been pretty pissed off and would have thought the ex was trying to weedle their way back in. James response to that was "It's a good thing I'm not you then".

While I was responding to Kate's text I was also conscious of the fact that she was in bed with Tom, who is one of James's best friends (James and I set the two of them up and they've really hit it off). This meant that any dramatic response from me would probably somehow be communicated to Tom which would in turn get back to James! Knowing Kate, she would have made a really big deal about the text which would get Tom wondering about why it was such an issue. This means a lot to me because I don't like the idea of Kate or Tom or anyone thinking Derek is still important to me because he isn't. I love James and I couldn't be happier with him.

At the same time, I would be lying if I said I hadn't given Derek's texts any more thought. I can't help but wonder what he is hoping to achieve. He will have known as well as he knows his own name that as soon as Kate received that text she would have forward it to me. A couple of weeks ago a friend from uni told me that he still occassionally speaks to Derek. Why Derek would want to maintain contact with him is beyond me. I don't know if I should be getting worried that something is about to kick off. My world is fine just as it is and I don't want anything to threaten that.

Aaargh! I thought I had left all this drama behind in my last blog???

Things You Don't Know

I love the idea of Post Secret. I'm addicted to the site and the fact that the poster must feel an immeasurable amount of freedom after sharing their secret with millions of people.

On the right-side of the page I have included a list of things you don't know about me. The plan is to elaborate on one or two of the points each week and then update the entire list.

"I wear hair extensions"

I can't help it. It's my achilles heel. I spend about £200 every 6 weeks on extensions. I like to think you can't tell because they are only a little longer than my real hair. I have them because I love thick, straight, fuss-free hair. I can colour them and generally mistreat them in a way I couldn't, wouldn't my own hair. I think they are the best thing invented since chemical straighteners. But, as we all know, nothing comes without some sort of price. The following are problems commonly encountered by those who wear extensions:

1. You jump a mile everytime someone goes to touch your hair because you don't want people feeling the extensions

2. Everytime you tell someone you wear extensions you have to put up with people lifting up your hair so they can see them (and in the process showing them to everyone in the vicinity)

3. You have to live with the knowledge that you could treat yourself to a weekend break in Paris/Venice/Barcelona, or a designer handbag/shoes, dinner at Claridges every 6 weeks with the money you spend at the hairdressers

4. You increasingly look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards as you get closer to the next hardresser's appointment

5. You can't help but sympathise with the likes of Jordan/Jade and their own special relationship with extensions.

6. A really strong gust of wind can reveal your secret to the whole world. As a result, you have enough hair grips, clips and alice bands to stock a salon.

When I was 10 I had a pink Secret Diary and to the question "What do you want to be when you grow up", I wrote "Lawyer/Prostitute"

Yes, I knew what a prostitute did. I liked boys and sex looked like fun on the TV - it seemed like the perfect profession! While I was immature (clearly) I was pretty sexually aware and couldn't wait to get started (it's a wonder I was a virgin until 17!) and Pretty Woman made it all seem fantastic. I blame it all on Pretty Woman for making me think that prostitutes were a bit like Cinderella with the exception that they got to go to fancy places and massive shopping sprees whilst they waited for their prince. The fact that I shouldn't have been watching Pretty Woman at 10 is obviously irrelevant.

Looking Back The Way We Had Come

When I started my old blog in April 2007, I had these visions of looking back in 5 years time at what I had written and re-living life at 21. It didn't occur to me that, in the same way I've never been able to keep one diary for more than a couple of years, I wouldn't be able to continue posting on a blog created by an infinitely younger, more annoying version of myself. So here I am, on blog #2.

Your author is 22, living at home with (brace yourself): one mother, two brothers, two sisters, one maybe-sometime-soon brother-in-law, two nieces and one nephew. Thank God no pets are allowed. Last year I split up with my then boyfriend of 4 years, fell apart then fell in love with a horribly unsuitable character whilst on the rebound, dated half of London using all available dating mediums and then met a boy called James with whom I will be travelling to Rome in about 5 weeks to celebrate the anniversary of our first date :). I think that counts as a backstory. It may not be as emotional as the ones frequently featured on X Factor (i'm sorry my wife didn't die whilst giving birth to our daughter, i'm sorry I know where the Bahamas are on a map and I'm sorry that Louis Walsh didn't reject me three years - an experience which would, of course, have made me 'stronger' and 'ready for this') but "I hope I've done enough". Alright, I'm a reluctant X Factor fan. I reckon the final 3 should be Austin "fit as f*ck" Drage, Diana Vickers and JLS. Laura (aka Laaaaaaara) is a bit wailey and Alexandra is a bit predictable. James and I have a Sunday morning X Factor Ritual that involves screaming at www.itv.co.uk to get with the programme and allow shows to stream properly and eventually giving up and just watching each performance (plus judge's comments of course) on YouTube. No, it's not sad at all!

You'll be pleased to know I'm blogging from work. I'm a corporate paralegal at a pretty sexy international law firm until May next year and will start my training contract at another law firm in September 2009. Those of you in the legal world will know full well what it means to finally get a TC. I would liken it to giving birth with the exception that your 'baby' allows you to charge your fees in 6 minute units and generally makes you money as opposed to bleeds you dry. The one downside of work though are the security settings and internet policies - no facebook (which I suppose isn't such a loss), ebay, YouTube ... If anyone had told me I wouldn't be able to faff about on the internet for 50% of my working day I don't know if I would have bothered with all the sleepless nights at uni and law school. The only 'fun' thing I can access is Rollonfriday but it's proving to be very good at distracting me from the work I'm paid to do.

p.s. I love the Transport for London Art on the Underground project. "Off to work 8:15am (Nylon Uniform)" is another of my favourite along with "Looking Back the Way We Had Come".

Link to the Old Blog

Ella's Story