There is a strange sort of optimism connected to the first days of every term. I don't know exactly what causes it. It may be the first lectures of exciting new courses, books that make that first cracking sound when you open them, seeing old friends for the first time since before exams or making first impressions on new ones. It may be that fresh feeling of cleverness that always accompanies the promises you make to yourself about great working, eating and socialising habits. It may also have something to do with the fact that this early in the term, no-one is 'worse than'. You still have a shot at becoming one of the good ones, and more often than not a genuine hope that this year, you'll make it.

Whatever the reason may be, I'm going to enjoy this feeling for as long as it lasts.

I'm in study hall. I'm never in study hall.

Hours: 8
Espresso shots: 5
Pages read: 200
Breaks: 1 (very) long, 2 short.

I knew I had it in me somewhere.

I'm not ready to admit defeat just yet, but this doesn't seem to be working out very well, does it? It's the Fridays and Saturdays that are the problem, simply because of the evening activity/tipsiness factor. I'll have to find a way to work around that.

Yesterday night was spent in the company of the lovely Mizz Dee and her posse. Supersoft and Radiostar were playing at Skuret, and I was pleasantly surprised by both. On Supersoft's part, this could have something to do with the fact that the last time I saw them play half the band were half-dead from various illnesses, but yesterday they played (and sang) brilliantly. It didn't matter that they stumbled a couple of times, that Ole (vocals) could barely hear himself for the first half of the concert or that the guitarist snapped a string; they sounded great and the audience had a fantastic time. Surely that must be the most important thing.

(Also, I got to talking with aforementioned guitarist's girlfriend, who turned out to be thoroughly lovely, and who is, to quote Lone, absolutely bursting with baby! I think I touched his tiny arse. I'm not going to tell him that when he grows up.)

Radiostar, too, were surprisingly good. Young, though - they looked more than a little like they were cutting high school biology class to be there - but they had some good stuff. And that singer? Could really sing. I mean, he was incredibly obnoxious, but when he finally just shut up and did his thing he was great. Unfortunately, the songs weren't. Sure, some of them had that bottom-jiggling swing thing going, but these boys seriously need to hire someone to write their songs for them, because this was like 'lyric writing according to the Yellow Pages'. I mean come on, it can't possibly be that hard to write a love song without rhyming 'take the chance' with 'romance'.
Can it?

Other than that, my life is exceptionally dull at the moment. Loads of school stuff, and trust me, you don't want to hear about that - Hell, I don't even want to hear about that! I went shopping (in the name of guilt-free retail therapy) for stationery and cute notebooks yesterday, and it was the definite high point of my school week; it's bad, I tell you. And indeed very dull.

The low point of my week took place at rehearsal on Thursday, when my fear of singing alone in front of people once again manifested itself, this time in the form of unstoppable crying. I don't mean that feminine tears-running-quietly-down-my-face kind of crying, I'm talking full-on violent sobbing. In front of, oh, say my entire choir? Yeah. And I hadn't even opened my mouth yet.

So this is how it goes: I become aware of the fact that I might have to sing  - my heart rate quickens - I become short of breath - my whole body freezes up - I can't speak - I notice tears filling my eyes - I become dizzy - I can't breathe at all - I start crying, whilst not being able to breathe properly, thereby making all these horrible, choking noises - I run into the bathroom and sit with my head between my knees until I no longer feel like I'm going to faint. Basically, it's like a small anxiety attack.

And all because I'm afraid I won't be good enough. Every single time. Bet you can't imagine how cool I felt.

On a cheerier note, I have spent a chunk of my not-exactly-hard-earned cash on a ticket to go and see Iron and Wine in January. The last time I saw them was about a year and a half ago, and not only did that concert turn out to be the musical highlight of that year, it even salvaged my love life (my attitude towards music is nothing if not utilitarian). I doubt that will happen again, but I still think this is going to be a biggie. Another concert I'm dying to go to is American Music Club, and I might just treat myself to that one as a birthday present, but not before I know how badly the exams have gone. Then I can at least roughly calculate my February financial status according to the depth of the pit of bad mark depression, and the amount of comfort food and booze I'll need to climb out of it. There is a price to be paid for crappy marks, people. Quite literally.

Seeing as I have an at-home exam in this from Monday to Thursday, then four exams in five days two weeks after that, I won't be able to keep up this habit of vigorous posting, but I promise not to go AWOL. Now I'm going to break in my new flowery Marimekko notebooks and read, read, read for the rest of the evening. Wish me luck.

Well that's just typical. Today is Troubled Tuesday, my only whinge allowance this week, and I'm happy. Happy! What, it couldn't wait, like, one more day?

Something that definitely can't wait one more day, is my befriending my least favourite book, the evil pink one, 'Introducing Phonology'. I'm sure my fear of and hatred towards it will turn out to have been completely irrational, but up until now this has been the really 'wow, you certainly treat your books with care' one. The time has come for that to change, though. Everybody? I'm going in.


Yeah, sorry to short-change you on this one, but I have to juice my motivation as best I can. If you want troubles, there are plenty to choose from (school, boys, self-esteem, school, boys, friends, school, boys, boys, family, boys), but I'm sure they won't have magically sorted themself out by next week. You'll have your fair share of girly rants, all in good time (like tomorrow, which may have to be baptised 'Whiny Wednesday' after all).

In the mean time, how about you? What's wrong with your lives?

My fingers have been itching to blog ever since I left for Italy. Ideas have been popping into my head at the most unexpected times (resulting in a couple of inappropriate laughing fits), and I have been yearning for my darling Macbeth like a  scantily clad Hollywood starlet for boob tape. 

I had forgotten that being reunited with my beloved would also mean a return to The Rest: assignments, deadlines, stress, washing up, Visa card troubles, an annoyingly lovely ex, laundry, parents, guilt and to top it all off, a drinking water bacteria which causes me not only to dehydrate, but also to be deprived of my double americanoes, the stuff that was born into this world to get me through times like these. Stupid.

So here I am, sipping my almost-cold Friele Breakfast Coffee (made from pre-boiled water), in my underwear and red felt slippers, feeling semi-creative, semi-awake and beyond pressured because of a certain morphology assignment due tomorrow. I'm telling you now: It is very, very unlikely that you'll find anything more entertaining here than a meme or two for the next week. I know there have several times before been more than a month between posts, but as you may or may not have noticed, I'm trying to pull myself together in the blogging department and actually give you all a reason to stick with me, if not through Hell and high waters, then at least through a silly little bacteria epidemic.

I suppose a quick retelling of the Rimini story is in order (Giss was right when he pointed out that it sounds more like a supermarket chain than a town!). Well, it was good, it was very good. Exhausting, though. We came second among the ensembles (less than 16 singers), and it felt great to have done so well, and also to have beat a couple of extremely good choirs. The winners were entirely deserving of their medal, and for a brief moment the world made complete sense.

Yesterday, when I was surfing about, trying to regain my pre-weekend energy level (and, it has to be said, failing miserably, thus resorting to watching downloaded episodes of Six Feet Under instead), I found an entry concept on Alyndabear's blog that I thought would be perfect for less-than-creative moments like these: The love/hate list. It's like the perfect mix between a meme (fill in the blanks...) and an plain old update (... with whatever you like), and is manageable even for me, even today. So here it is, my very first love/hate list, and possibly the last you'll hear from me for a week or so. Of course, knowing how I react to stress I'll probably end up blogging loads when I should instead be explaining the different aspects of locution, illocution and perlocution and providing my own examples, but at least now I'm making sure that won't be out of guilt.

I did not get any sleep last night. I blame Coffee.

Bad Coffee!

You have no idea what it’s like just lying there, waiting to get sleepy, but failing miserably, and instead ending up wishing you had a TV set just so you could watch numerous re-runs of America’s Next Top Model, because even that would be more entertaining than the insane boredom that comes with not being able to fall asleep. You feel good about yourself now, Coffee? I told you, no action after 9 pm. I mean seriously, what have I ever done to you? I have loved you, cherished our friendship, and this is how you repay me. I thought I knew you…

On a different note, I’ve just handed in this semester’s first paper. And I did not die. All that drama, and for what?

Yeah, my life is just one big disappointment today.

So today has been a lovely, albeit slightly odd, day. I haven't been sleeping well lately - actually I've barely been sleeping at all lately - but I was a good little schoolgirl and got up at six thirty, had a shower and headed over to Julie's for breakfast and some much needed coffee. We may have been a bit lazy - I had to do my makeup, we had to catch up on the latest gossip - but it is, uh, Tuesday, after all. So we were at uni around ten and got to work (I was massively sleepy, you know, the I-can't-feel-my-legs-kind of sleepy, so I wasn't at my most efficient, but still). It's assignment week, so I don't have any lectures at all and can save the best spots in study hall for me and my posse. Well, for  Julie, anyway.

Freaky thing #1: This is my favourite week of term. It's the only time we  get to write anything that isn't on the actual exam, and I am having such a good time with it! I just love the feeling I get when I sit at home with pizza and diet coke (I use 'busy week' as an excuse to eat all the crap that I fail miserably at staying away from the rest of term as well), just writing and perhaps listening to a some music and processing all the information which up until now has been a mess. Call me strange: I love it.

Freaky thing #2: I got the weirdest present today that I've ever got from any guy - in this case the shy one I mentioned a couple of weeks ago. The story behind our acqaintance will cost you a cup of coffee (well, actually, any meeting with me will cost you a cuppa these days, seeing as my pretty new Visa card just won't bloody work! But anyway, do I have a sign on my forehead reading something like 'Will do the squelchy for cd's'? Cause, I mean, I have a pretty big forehead. And I hope there wasn't any other reason for this - uh - gift. In fact, I'm not sure I'd like there to be a reason at all. I mean, compilations I can handle. Gay pop? Keith Jarrett? Tool? Sure, bring it on, whatever. But...

So, I need answers: Should I, or should I not, be worried that someone gives me an audiobook version of Nietzsche's 'Also Sprach Zarathustra'? And, more importantly, which of us should I worry about more?

Then again, maybe not. I need to pay more attention, it seems: what with everything happening on Classfronter these days (which I, by the way, have never learned to use properly), two of my assignments have been just sitting there for a week without me knowing about it.

I miss paper. Now I must work.

Bah.

Edit: Ok, so it had only been posted on Classfronter yesterday. I still feel like I'm losing my talent for organisation, though.
Back to work, then...

I feel the need to drain my mind of all its random clutter and start afresh. To this end, some people go to confession. I, on the other hand, want to take it out on more than just one person - so I blog.

For several weeks I’ve been spending most of my time in the library. Mostly studying, but also giggling and blog-surfing and soaking up the atmosphere. I like it - I like uni. I don’t feel completely inadequate, and I don’t walk around feeling totally self-conscious about not being good enough. And I always worry about not being good enough, it’s a law of Sjokoladepiken’s nature, like good bras and fat legs; something that just belongs in me. But it’s fading.

So now what will I do for fun?

There has been a lot going on lately, but also nothing mind-boggling enough to cause me to spontaneously post it. I have started writing entries, but none of them have really turned out - well - interesting, not even to me. I’ve optimistically saved about ten or fifteen beginnings, but I fear most of them will remain just that - treasured beginnings. Story of my life.

In my defense, there has been one ending in particular that has taken up a lot of time lately. But that has nothing to do with writing.

So. Update. Recap. My last weeks’ goings-on can be summed up quite easily:
- Reading
- Reading
- Blog-surfing
- Insomnia
- Studying
- New jacket
- Wine-induced camera abuse with Julie and Heidi
- Beer with Ditte
- Coffee with Julie and Elin and Charlie
- Pretending to be studying
- Actually studying
- Spending way too much time online.

I will elaborate, I promise, I just needed to get this beginning out of the way.
Now: class. Phonology. Fun. Spitting teacher with bad handwriting, but other than that, good.

I think I may actually like my life again. Who would have thought? I definitely think it’s the jacket.

Let the good times roll!