Small development.

Well. This is embarrassing.

So I dropped out of uni...Actually 'dropped out' is such a harsh way of putting it. I didn't fail at anything, I haven't left because I can't figure out how to use the microwave, I have tactfully withdrawn. Turns out, I don't want to be a journalist at all. SUCH FUN! It just happens to have taken me two months and a small breakdown in Bournemouth park to realise it.

But DON'T PANIC. Because I know you were. I have an utterly brilliant plan. Music has always been the thing I most enjoy in life, and when I look back (wistfully, often out of a window) at my time here, the parts I most enjoyed were music related. So. With this is mind I decided to search around a bit, see what else was out there, and I found Music Promotion.

This course is me in a nutshell. At Southampton Solent, it's only half an hour on the train from my beloved Bournemouth so you haven't quite gotten rid of me yet MUAHAHA. But seriously, the course looks insane, the uni is wicked, one of the lecturers is mates with Dave Grohl...

........


...sorry had to calm down about that again. It's going to take me into the industry I want to be in, doing the jobs I want to do, stalking the bands I want to stalk...
I am absolutely gutted to leave Bournemouth, I really am. I've loved everything about uni here: being able to have a shower at 4am, Dominos within walking distance...what is not to love? Leaving my flat, and going back to live in a village, with the slowest fucking broadband in the country will be a ballache. The download speeds here are wild compared to Bassingham.

But most of all I'm going to miss the people.
Connor, I will miss your disturbing stare, and your tiger onesie, and everytime I hear gangnam style I will think of you.
Harrison, jesus christ.
Elliott, who will educate me about politics and read out my work in a ridiculous way?!
Jess, I knew you were a keeper when you left an insanely hot guy to save me. You are the nicest.
Petro. Petro Petro Petro. Can't even say it all on here it's not internet friendly. Niggas.

I'm taking the gap year I should have taken straight away. I'm going to get a job, get some work experience, perfect my pasta bake, and listen to a shit ton of music.

See you for round 2 in 2013.

Times are a' changin

It's all go in Lloydo's life here in Bournemouth. Had you told me several weeks ago that these things would be happened I wouldn't even have been able to laugh in your face because I'd be on the floor corpsing.

Numero uno, I have stopped eating crisps. Good lord just writing that made my heart feel funny. Anyone who knows me well enough will understand how big of a deal this is. I don't just eat crisps. I live and breathe them. I think they are the greatest snack item of all time. One time I dreamt I had a bath in skips and ate my way out. It was basically porn. But I have stopped, I haven't bought any for some time now. There's a packet of Sensations under my desk that have been there for OVER 3 HOURS. I am a new woman.

Numero dos, Rachel II and I went to the gym. I spent so long on the treadmill that when the time came to move I was walking like we were playing charades and I'd got the moon landing. It was a bizarre sensation so I sat down for a long time and pretended to stretch. Really I was just coming to terms with the fact that I, Rachel Lloyd, had just exercised of my own free will. We also attempted the cross-trainers. That made me feel even more ridiculous than the unintentional Neil Armstrong impression. I haven't been back yet but, here's the thing, I plan to. Secretly I quite enjoyed the whole experience and since I've cut down on the one thing that was probably going to kill me, I figure a little exercise will do just the trick to get my heart's age down from about 80 to 18.

Numero tres (spanish is holding up well here) I joined The Rock, our University newspaper. I'm on the News design team which meant today I spent nearly 9 hours in front of a Mac clicking about. I. was. in. heaven. I am to clicking a mouse as clicking a mouse is, to, err, Lenny. Oh ho what a topical joke. Some people go white water rafting, or make model aeroplanes or solve equations because they love the challenge of it all. This is how I feel about text boxes. And lines that don't match up. Good god the intense satisfaction when you've zoomed in to 1 pixel and you can spot the error, ISN'T IT JOYOUS?!

Numero quatro, I got another tattoo. That was nice.

Numero cinco, actually I've run out of mildly interesting topics and unless you want to hear about how I found a really decent deal on plastic wallets in Asda I think I'll leave it there.

Music and Matchmakers

This weekend, I had a little break from uni. It was so nice to get away from the same two rooms I've been in for the past month. I am too knackered to think in coherent paragraphs, so this blog will take the form of bulleted things I've learnt over the past 3 days.

• spicy chinese beef is really damn tasty.
• when in the bath, it is advisable to select music which will promote a good image of you to anyone overhearing it. For example, 'baby got back' is an excruciatingly long song to listen to when you know people are outside the door, judging you. 'Drop it like it's hot' is also less appropriate when those outside include an 11 year old.
• matchmakers should be required food for every bathtime, though soap must be shaken off before touching or the next few may taste of Moroccan rose and orange blossom or whatever that shit was.
• London has its transport system absolutely down, like, srsly well done u guyz.
• The following things will never get old in aquariums:
  - humming the jaws theme tune when observing the shark tank
  - doing fish voice overs in the style of their appearance. (crabs are always french)
  - smiling back at stingrays
• I am not above a sharp elbow to the face of small children when there are giant turtles to be seen
• McDonald's is king
• The Wizard of Oz is a complete LIE
• Wicked reveals everything, you will question your whole existence.
• Some people are really bloody ridiculously talented, and when they turn out to be really bloody ridiculously lovely as well, it's a kick in the crotch.
• I like egg

That pretty much sums up my weekend. If you have any further questions you should probably go outside and stare at the sun until you go blind because that will be more productive than learning more about my dull life.

Below is a collection of pictures that won't go next to each other so scroll away bitches

landan baby

you came to the wrong neighbourhood
motherfucker

bein all starin nd dat

'(anything in an elderly chinese accent)'

I quite like london really

The Wicked stage and err a dragon that's not really in the
story but it blows smoke and shit

Have become so lethargic I can't even think of a title

But haven't posted for a while because I've been...wait for it...no seriously sit down or something...

...working. Sort of.

So far I have written more to-do lists than at any other time in my life, read books with dictionaries on side in order to understand what the hell is going on, and stress eaten a small elephant's body weight in crisps. In fact I'm not entirely sure it's even worth working on my assignments, because I'm pretty certain within the next few days my heart will explode. 

But I yolo on, hoping it will all come together without me even noticing. I joined Nerve's (our student magazine) design team which was nice. In the first session we ate lollipops and listened to Seal. I think I'm in the right place. I'll also get the chance to do gig reviews which will make me cool, right? Of course it will. I did some washing, (had a moment of mild panic when I thought I'd put everything in the tumble dryer first but luckily there's only a 2 in 7 chance of that happening) downloaded an ice age app that will single handedly destroy my degree and caught up on Paul O'Grady. It's been a productive week.

This Friday I head off to stay with my cousin for the weekend. We're going to see Wicked! (That wasn't lame enthusiasm, that's literally what it's called, Wicked! Like Panic!...........atthedisco, which was always stupid.) It'll be nice to get a change of scenery, can't believe I've been here nearly a month now, christ. And do you know I haven't seen a single fly in that time? This thought struck me at 2am this morning, have they all just disappeared? Please, if you've seen a fly, contact me.

Nothing more to report, need to get back to reading McNae's Essential Law for Journalists. Oh the deep, deep joy of defamation law.

OH. And I'm joining the gym later

hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha what am I like eh

The ones with hats are the best.

(Well. Have only just noticed that last post. Needless to say it wasn't me.)

Today I finally got round to starting my first assignment: interviewing the elderly about their earliest memories. I wandered around Bournemouth for a long time before eventually plucking up the courage to talk to someone, who knew I was so deathly afraid of strangers?!
A nice lady answered my questions, and I confessed that I had clocked an adorable, hat wearing, paper reading old man but was too nervous to interrupt him. 'Just do it! Honestly he'll just be happy to have someone to talk to!' was her response, and so, brimming with oap infused confidence, I went for it.

Half an hour and his entire life story later, and I was done. He was called Derek. Derek did not understand the concept of one early memory, but I was too interested to stop him. He lost an eye during the war. His father was the director of paramount. Derek, was awesome. I think interviewing old people is my new favourite thing.

I worry for a time when future journalism students face similar tasks, and all I can answer with is, 'well I spent a lot of time on the Internet really...' Derek flew planes in the war, I watched several seasons of cougar town in one summer. Derek started his own design business, I discovered that if you layer the cheese on nachos you really enhance the experience.

Turns out Derek has a house in Cyprus. Had he asked me to move there with him I think I may have said yes.

Quick update

I love life. Elliott Trapp is amazing I actually love him.

Harrison Holmes.

Harrison, Harrison Harrison Harrison. He is, it's universally agreed in flat 46, the best flatmate. And he's just started a blog, so you can all enjoy him too.

"I also guess it’s a place where I can just sit there not saying anything for a couple of weeks and not be called a ‘waste of a follow’ and essentially just do fuck all."
He literally said that.
harrisonholmes.wordpress.com

Proper learnin' and that

Today, Dan made us draw around our hands and feet and then complained that we hadn't learnt anything in half an hour. I learnt something. Dan is pure mental.

SEVEN hours in uni today, thanks for breaking me in gently. First task for news is to find an OAP and interview them about their 'earliest memories'. Aka frighten a poor old lady half to death, bombard her with personal questions and then ask her to take some selfies for my article. Well, maybe I'll take the pictures. I think I'm going to ask the security guard who's crossword I finished the other night, he's old, and so nice...I think...Sambuca may have clouded my judgement. I think features is going to be my favourite unit, glad to have an opportunity to write something decent, something other than the drivel I've been boring you all with.*

Shorthand, however, is a little bitch. But essential to get anywhere apparently. I'm not convinced. I doubt Kerry Katona ever learnt it and she had a column in OK! so it can't be that sought after. But this OK! we're talking about. I'll power through, I've already learnt the alphabet and can write it without hesitation whilst listening to Hilary Duff's (oh so underrated) album, so I'm doing well, right?

No more to report really, did I tell you I cooked fishcakes? I'm not bad at putting stuff in an oven as it turns out. Below are a few pictures of my recent meals that I instagrammed the shit out of so they look fancy and stuff.

                                                                           Good, eh?










*lol jk I'm perfect.

Bring on the oven.

Feel like I need some practice typing on my NEW IPAD. I'm sorry, I'll try not to be too dickish about it. The blogger app actually isn't that great so I may end up writing more from my laptop, but hey ho.

Enrolled officially this week. Now I have to do work and stuff, oh god. Task number one was create a professional twitter account so employers won't hate me as much as my other followers do. However haven't been able to separate my HILARIOUS personality entirely- one tweet and I've already mentioned bacon... @rachdoesjourno for anyone who's interested in seeing me write dead serious and that.

Freshers Fair tomorrow, going to get there bang on time in order to claim maximum freebies. Have been terrible student so far, what sort of fresher buys an iPad in their first week good god. However, student cooking wise, on top form as have yet to cook proper meal... That will all change tonight though, am going to attempt sweet and sour chicken, apologies in advance to fellow halls residents who may have to evacuate later...

Although, that said, I did buy a bag of mixed salad today so I'll probably survive another week or so. Wish me luck.

Dan, the complete and utter man.

Today, I met my course leader.
He stared at us.
He sang.
He jumped on a desk.
He took us to the beach.
He made flapjack.
I love him.

There is nothing else about today that is important. This is definitely the right course for me. I hope our friendship blossoms into something beautiful.

PASS ME MY FINEST PEN

So Freshers is almost over. There are still events happening next week, but as of Monday 24th September 2012, I am officially, properly, really full on studying at Bournemouth University. Holy hell.

Last night, was one of the best night's I've ever had out, like, ever. (you feel me Taylor Swift?) My ghetto/house/heavy/dubstep/folk/gospel (we're not entirely sure which) partner in crime and fellow Rachel, Miss Petrovics and I went to 'WAYF' aka We Are Your Friends. http://www.wayfclub.com/ If you ever get a chance to go to one of these nights, GO. I am a self confessed indie wanker, but even I enjoyed it. I'd like to say that I was drunk enough to forget that I do my top buttons up and enjoy country music, but I wasn't, I WAS TOTALLY SOBER. AND I DIDN'T GIVE A SHIT. WAYF has my soul now.

Tomorrow marks the start of term one at BU, introductions, enrollments and welcome talks galore. After nearly 3 months off, with no structure to my days bar the fact that The Big Bang Theory is on at 6, I'm itching to get back in and start working. Imagine I'll regret that when I'm snowed under with assignments, crying for the days when Leonard and Sheldon were my only distraction. But for now, I'm excited. Our first week includes a lecture on the US Election, I hope Obama is guest speaker. One of the major things to learn this year is shorthand. I saw some yesterday, it looks like hieroglyphics, so that should be fun. May just draw some baskets and eyes and sphinxes and call it quits. Apparently I have to practice for two hours every day to keep on top of it, hahahahahahahahahahaha. Oh god.

All up in my grill, and there's not even steak.

Diverting slightly from the university side of things, I wanted to take a minute to tell you a quick story and see if anyone else out there shares my troubles.

Let's get one thing straight, I am no hot piece of ass. When I go out of an evening, I am not bombarded by men trying to buy me drinks or dance with me, and it's perfectly fine because it means more time to dance to Beyonce and less chance to end up in a ditch blazed on rohypnol. However, equally, I am not a susan boyle lookalike so on occasion, I do find myself in situations which require a speedy 'I'll be back in a second' and a mad dash to the nearest toilets. 

Last night, I found myself in a predicament. Being a top pal and excellent wingman, I was very happy to see my friend had managed to score a hottie. Less happy was I, to discover I was now stuck with his absolutely plastered mate. An awkward dance or two later and I was beginning to panic that my friend was not fully understanding the urgent nature of the HELPHELPHELPHELP I had been mouthing. You know when you play Swingball, and you hit the ball too hard that it flies manically round, each time looming dangerously close to your face? You know how you have to dodge back each time in order to avoid a head on collision with a mass of wool and rubber? This guy was my Swingball. But I didn't have a bat.

I'm not hating on him. Sobered up and in the right situation he's probably lovely, but drunk, in a club, when I just wanted to sing 212, I was not interested. Even turning around didn't help, how am I supposed to throw my arms up in the air when instructed by Taio Cruz, if they're preoccupied with batting away hands that are roaming around like a blind person looking for dropped keys?!

'We'll be back in a second' inevitably followed, and I dashed off, ordering my friend to return immediately as her catch didn't have the eyes of a murderer. Just call me Cupid. 

________________________________________________________________________

On another note, this all happened at the beach party, complete with ageing, Hawaiian shirt wearing, totally brilliant beach boys tribute band. This is me and Jess, getting all beachy and stuff.

JUST WANT YOU ALL TO KNOW...

...because of the font I've chosen for post titles, there's a few seconds where it appears in comic sans before loading. I hate these seconds as much as you do.

Still can't hack freshers

Not a lot to report. Was home by 1.30am again. Had a mild panic attack when I thought my student finance hadn't gone through, but it turns out I was counting to 8 instead of 9. These next three years could be fun.

Today's plan was to pop into the uni campus for scones, but this turned out to be a Christian event, and no matter how good their jam/cream ratio is, I can't handle religion being forced down my throat in this fragile state. And I don't think the vicar/priest/grand high witch will appreciate their service interrupted as I chuckle my way through jesus-everywhere.tumblr.com. Check it out, you won't regret it, but you may run into trouble at the pearly gates.

So we're going to attempt another trip to the beach, there's a giant deckchair, I'm going to get a picture in front of it like a tourist, will upload later. Tonight is, hopefully, a much calmer 'acoustic fayre'. Though considering on Sunday night I attempted to play a stranger's guitar this could all end in tears. And a bad rendition of the James Bond theme tune.




p.s McDonald's in in Asda here. I am 100% dead pleased.

Can't hack freshers.

I have a 16 piece cutlery set. 

What single man could ever need 16 pieces of cutlery in one go. I think this sums up my university experience, aka, I haven't got a bloody clue what I'm doing. Yesterday I managed to fit all my clothes into my room here in Bournemouth, and I think I was so overwhelmed with this achievement that I sort of stopped thinking about anything else. I'm worried, because I feel absolutely fine. I haven't wept for my old bed... I did some washing up. And now I'm sitting in my room surrounded by 36 packets of hula hoops that I got for a fiver and thinking this is the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.

I think I've been helped by the fact that I will literally talk to anyone; although what I end up saying to these people may become a hindrance as we all sober up next week and everyone begins to question why they accepted my friend request...3 minutes after meeting. Last night we got so drunk that we were all home by 1.30am. We tried to find the beach, which is a mere 5 minute walk away if you're not under the influence of sambuca, but got so lost that we ended up returning home, lying on the sofas and wondering if we're going to toughen up as the week goes on. I sure hope so because tonight is (have a bucket at the ready) 'back 2 skool night'. It's ok I vomited too. My pet hate of all fancy dress, but this is freshers and what's done is done, though I may just wear normal clothes, take a pound, and tell them I'm having a non uniform day for comic relief. 

I haven't cooked anything yet. Am going to see how long I can last and then, when I'm on my last legs, I'll break out the spaghetti hoops. I have the essentials, vodka and mixers, Sensations and a toothbrush. Freshers has my soul now.

These are my flatmates. They're not half bad you know.