Thursday 18 August 2011

Money, money, money

I have two love/hate relationships in my life - food and money.  These are relationships that I crave to be in but also wish there was an escape hatch.  Money is horrid.  We need it for everything but when we have it - it never lasts long enough, it never goes far enough and we always, always, always have to have more.  Then the clever-dick banks come along and tempt us with loans and credit cards telling us in their smooth, silky voices that this will take away all our problems and how lucky we will be.  It's utter rot.  If I could destroy one thing in this world it would be credit.  It is the bane of our lives and encourages us to live outside of our means giving in to the gimme, gimme, gimme mentality of society.  The very idea of credit actually sickens me to my very core and I am so ashamed of the debt I have amassed by being so stupid to entertain the notion that I can borrow, borrow, borrow and make the repayments without getting myself into really, really, really big hole.

It doesn't help that life throws you curve balls along the way and washing machines blow up, cars break down, clothes wear out, you keep having to buy the damn food and little things like solicitors and divorces just add the finishing touches.  I caved in to Excel and creating a pay back spreadsheet - it is in no way idealistic (for once), it is based on the bare facts and not the rose tinted spectacles that say oh yes I can pay twice as much that month because I will definitely not spend it on anything else.  This is a master plan.  An iron cast solution.  A no-brainer.  A no-fail.  A win-win - well you get the idea.  This should work.  I can feel it in my water.  And the good news people?  Debt free in 14 months - hear the bell toll to mark the beginning of that countdown and the death of my debts.  14 months - it's much less than I thought however I am sure it will seem like eons of hell as I live through the firm yet firm repayment plan.

My post-repayment plan?  Watch this space ;)

Wednesday 10 August 2011

Green, green grass

I am homesick.  I am actually sick for home.  I miss:

  • my bed
  • my sheets
  • my pillow
  • my shower
  • my lotions and potions
  • my tea cup
  • my milk
  • my tiny fridge
  • my cooking
  • my sofa
  • my TV
  • my music
  • my Internet!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  • my clothes
  • my swimming pool (ok not mine but you get the picture)

Basically my everything.  But the one thing that I am missing more than anything is my better half.  I miss his smile, his laugh, his singing, his dancing, his high-fives, his hugs, his good-mornings, his happy attitude, his pick me up and his actual pick me ups, his sausage rolls, his light switching abilities, his gaming, his appreciative eating - well you get the idea.

Home sickness is not something that I remember really having had before and it's pretty brutal.  I sympathise with anyone who has had it before - I feel your pain.  I just want to go home so so so desperately.  These uni weeks usually fly by but this week is stretching for ever.  Once more time is doing its squirly whirly routine and dragging its ass whilst travelling at its usual speed and passing me by. 

Everyone keeps telling me 'soon be home time' which is not overly comforting but I guess it will soon be time to pack up and go and then I will be missing the freedom from the usual 9-5 grind and wishing myself away on holiday once more.  You just can't win these things I guess.

Monday 8 August 2011

G Block

This week I am mostly standing back and shaking my head in disbelief at the behaviour of a disparate collection of human beans in one place.  Yes folks, I am at Uni this week.

Apparently when you go to University you loose the ability to flush the toilet, speak politely to other people, sit together at mealtimes and act your age.  Apparently when you go to University you revert back to the school sub-type you were assigned to.

Well not me, I don't forget the fact that I am an adult with my own personality and opinions without the need to adopt sheep conformation to keep a bunch of strangers I shall never meet again happy.  And it is with some satisfaction that I can look down upon the mob who seem unable to smile unless the leader of the group deems it is appropriate.

So far this week I have been smirked at for wearing a red t-shirt - omg people, this is unforgivable in the slut fashion stakes of OU uni week.  I have been disparaged for being a lone wolf and not rushing to beg to be included in the 'popular group'.  I have been shushed in a lecture for whispering very quietly at the end about a course relevant to the lecture attending.  I have even been eviled for taking notes, albeit on another topic,  quietly and methodically with the ease of someone who hasn't stopped studying since the age dot.

Now, don't get me wrong - I don't feel hard-done-to enough to defend my position however I do find it laughable.  I expect to attend the labs, the evening lectures and then visit the bar for a quiet one each and every day - there is no need to rush to excess just because you are away from your home environment.  Yes you are at University but does not immediately convert you to an 18 year old who needs to get plastered every night, snog all the remotely handsome blokes and stay up until 5am making excessive noise.  Yes G block, I am referring to you.  First night here and they partied until 5.  Consequently early morning lectures were missed which invalidates attendance which affects your ability to pass the course.  The second to last ever summer school that the Open University will ever run.  Is the opportunity to run away from your life so appealing that you think nothing of throwing your hard studied degree away?  It doesn't make much sense to me but then what do I know.

I know who I am.  I might moan about the size of the packaging from time to time but I am comfortable with who I am, what I am like and what I stand for.  I don't need to adopt a fake persona to fit in with a bunch of people I am never going to see again.  Allow me to float through my residential week without pigeon holing me or relegating me to 'waste of space'.  I am me and you can't touch me.