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.