“Ciara Flynn” he says “The Jury have found you guilty on one account of neglecting your blog.”

A wave of noise resounds throughout the court. 

“And furthermore” the judge continues “guilty on one of account of 2:1age in your recently finished degree.”

The excited chatter continues as the guards strap on the handcuffs, and lead me away…

…Ah, Drama…

But, alas. It is true. I have neglected my blog since realizing that there was no need for me to continue as the marks had already been decided. Lately, however, I’ve been getting a strange urge to write, which i suppose isn’t that strange considering I just completed a degree in Creative Writing. My Nan just bought me a brand new Macbook, which allows me to take pictures, edit pictures, video chat, mix music, organise my life and translate English into Japanese, but does not provide me with a program in which I can write fiction/poetry and plays (or indeed, my general thoughts.) I’ve been told by the tech guys that I can purchase a program for my mac that allows me to write, however, it will set me back £55 which, unfortunately, is money I don’t have, as I am ‘without job’. 

Anyway, I guess I’m just writing in here, because I’m bored…Bored, bored, bored and I feel as if I need to get back into the swing of things (writing wise), as I’m still absolutely adamant that I’ll publish a novel one of these days. I take my friend Jude as my main inspiration, who, at age 17, got published…Damn her and her talent…But anyway, I guess I’ll just be rambling and sharing ideas on here now…Its actually quite refreshing to know that its no longer getting marked.

I was 21 last week. Twenty-one.

Sometimes its strange writing my age, because I realise how fast time is passing me by. I’ve been here for three years, but, really, it feels like absolutely no time at all. I can still remember telling people that I was 8 years old when they asked me my age.

I had quite a strange old time at home. To begin with, this is the first year I’ve had a pretty downplayed birthday. I’m lucky to have a group of incredible friends, both up here and in Cardiff, who’ve attended a succession of extremely riotous ‘Key’s birthday’ celebrations. This year though, it was different. There was no excessive drinking, no puking no nothing…Which, to be honest, was a bit of a shock

Secondly, my parents decided to take me out for a meal on the night of my actual birthday. I’ve had a pretty hostile relationship with my family for years, this year I really enjoyed their company. 

The third thing that happened is (in true me fashion) a little bit stupid:

I went out on the 9th of April, a day after my birthday, with some of my best friends is Cardiff. A club called METROS (possibly the best club you will EVER go to). We’d had a great night, talking, laughing, dancing and what not, and then, after sorrily announcing that I was tired at quarter to two, I was walked to the museum by two friends; Will and Carew. Carew, a naturally boistrous character, and by far one of the best people I know, decided it would be a wonderful idea to pick me up on his shoulders. He does this alot, but it never frightens me any less, as Carew is nigh on six foot. I gripped onto his head and he danced around singing, swinging back and forth. “CAREW” I screamed “PUT ME DOWN. I’M REALLY SCARED!” The tone of my voice must have made his realise that i wasn’t lying, so, carefully he put his hands above his head, to lower me down.

UNFORTUNATELY, during what should have been a reletively smooth transaction from shoulders to floor, I fell forward, cracking my head on the concrete. Clever, clever me. I lay there for quite a while, not really knowing what has happened. It was like I was conciously knocked out. Carew and Will looked down on me desperately wanting to laugh, but extremely concerned nonetheless.

I made it home, and went to bed, nursing a HUGE lump on the side of my head. (Hey that rhymes!)

The next day I took a turn for the worst, waking up early, and not being able to construct a sentence. I was sluggish and slow, and often found myself zoning out into a dream when people spoke to me. I eventually admitted to my mother what had happened, after she enquired as to why I was being so strange, and asked whether or not I was on some drug-related come down. She sent me staight to A&E, where they told me I was not bleeding internally, but I did have a concussion.

When my grandmother dropped me home and informed my mother, she looked at me and said:

“Ciara, this is ridiculous, you’re too old to be larking about like this. You’re 21 not 16.”

*GULP* A lump in my throat. It was at that point I realised that I was officially too mature to be concussed, and my days of galivanting could be well and truly over…

…But surely you’re only as old as you feel and Sometimes I don’t feel a day over twelve.

 Does anyone else feel like this?

Also, please note the beautiful change of profile theme. I thought the old motif was a little boring.  

In a world where Hollywood glitz rules the industry, its very rare for one to come across such an astounding piece of cinema.

 Despite the alure of the old school Parisian charm, the highlight of the film for me, HAS to be the portrayal of Edith Piaf. A stunning performance from Marion Cotillard, an actress I’d not heard of before. I am now, however, an avid fan.

 As a drama student, I’m used to being told how frivilous acting is. Every now and then you’ll come across a history or philosophy student who will, without fail, snort, roll their eyes and ‘guffaw’ at the fact that your field of study is ‘make believe’.

When this DOES happen, I like to tell them that it takes nothing to be loud and obnoxious (as many drama students are) but it takes incredible skill and tremendous dedication to truly capture a roll. This is demonstrated by actors such as Marion Cotillard, Charlize Theron, Hilary Swank, Joacquin Phoenix, Ellen Page and Leonardo Di Caprio (just to name a few.) These people are the reason I chose to study drama, because they are truly incredible.

If you’ve not seen these people act in these films…

Charlize Theron (Monster)

Jaocquin Phoenix (Walk the line)

Hilary Swank (Boys don’t cry or Million dollar baby)

Leonardo Di Caprio (The Aviator or Titanic OR Whats eating Gilbert Grape)

Ellen Page (Juno or Hard Candy)

 And of course, Marion Cotillard (La Vie En Rose)

…You really, REALLY should, because they are TRULY wonderful.

 Its been a while…

Sorry about that.

 Actually, I’m not sorry at all. I haven’t really had much to say, let alone time to think.

I have a valid excuse, though. I’ve spent more or less every single evening from the end of February, rehearsing for a play, ‘Five Women wearing the same Dress’ by Alan Ball (a great play for any of you who are interested).

 I’m watching an advert for some TV show about Girls Aloud. Apparently they’ve taken the living  Barbie Dolls and told them they can live a childhood dream. The blonde one is learning to play polo and that one that smacked up the bathroom attendant is learning how to rap. I suppose I should feel sorry for her really, her obnoxious footballer husband cheated on her. Karma is a bitch isn’t it?

 ANYWAY, do you not think the money spent on this TV show would be better spent by granting a terminally ill child their childhood dream? Or giving a  grieving family something to restore their faith in humanity? Why would we possibly condone or watch a TV program, about bunch of women who are already multi-millionaires and ‘living the dream’. It makes absolutely no sense to me…

 Then again, I’m one of these people that cry every time I watch ‘Extreme Makeover’.

*Sigh*

 This particular TV show represents everything I hate.

 My blogs are so cynical lately. I should write about something lovely.

 Maybe next time.

 …Actually, its only Thursday, so maybe its unfair to sum up this period of time as ‘a week’.

For the past few days, I’ve felt like I can do absolutely nothing right, which is both completely self deprecating, and highly annoying for the people who have had to deal with bursts of what my housemates refer to as:

‘The Rage’.

 In order to prevent myself from further unleashing ‘the rage’, I have decided to make a comprehensive list of the things that have pissed me off this week:

 1) My complete lack of ability to knuckle down and work, despite the fact that I know full well that, if I don’t, I will come out of my degree with a really shit mark.

2) The Runnymede Literary festival, and the fact that my group and I haven’t been given enough information as to what we’re supposed to be doing, exactly.

3) The fact that they have abriviated the Runnymede Literary festival to ‘R-fest’

4) The pitiful ’58′ I got in my Live Art Practical module. (Yes, I’m STILL going on about it.)

5) The amount of washing up left festering at the side of the sink and the complete lack of consideration AND cutlery.

6) That stupid FUCK who decided to park in my drive yesterday so I couldn’t leave my own car outside my own house…

7) The fact that I chose NOT to key his car…When I wish I would have.

8) Mushrooms. Why?

9) The fact that not all vegetarian products taste as sumptuous as Linda Mcartney sausages.

 10) People who are condescending and rude for absolutely no reason.

11) People who mistreat the elderly and feel they have nothing to say.

 12) The person that stole my mug from the kitchen, kept in there room for a week, then left it on the sink full of scum. Thanks for that- ASSHOLE!

13) Complete lack of money, and complete lack of free time in order to take up extra shifts.

This is about it for now. I’m sure I’ll think of some more later.  

Valentines Day.

Every year the 14th of February rolls around, with little or no consideration for the single population .

We can convince ourselves that its a piece of Hallmark marketing bollocks all we want, but lets face it, too many people ’secretly’ accept it as a holiday for it to be obliterated completely from the year.

 This year, I have a boyfriend, and, although we’re constantly striving to be one of these ‘hip’ couples who simply don’t give a toss about stuff like over the top romance, but it seems that we too are being sucked into the pink flowery abyss that is Valentines day 08.

“Um…So, what are we doing about Valentines day?” I asked him. “I mean, I don’t want to not get you a card if you’re getting me one.”

 ”I think” he answered “that defeats the whole spontaneaty of things.”

This is true, but you have to be careful don’t you? I mean you don’t want to turn up with a whopping great card that says “I wuv you” in huge red letters, a box of thorntons finest and a highly expensive watch/computer game/dvd/general man thing, when all he buys you a packet of rolos.

 I know you don’t give to recieve, but that just takes the piss.

Luckily for me, Jack announced that he had infact bought a valentines day present for me (right under my nose apparently). Although, despite knowing that I know where I stand in the grand scheme of present buying, there is still one more problem I have to encounter:

 Present buying funds. Or lack thereof.

 I am skint

Poor

Without Moolah.

I therefore decided I would be extremely clever, alternative and ‘green’ by MAKING a valentines day card for Jack, fashioned entirely from Cereal boxes and scraps of the guardian. THe finished result, is, admittedly, a little ropey, but hopefully, he’ll appriciate the sentiment, right?

Christ. Now I have to find a present.

 Gotta love Valentines day. *Spits* Fuckin’ Hallmark.

So, to those of you who are single this 2008, do not fret, and do not let obnoxious couples piss you off all day. Simply sit down, cherish the people in your life that you DO love, and thank god that you didn’t have to go through the stress that the people snogging infront of you at the cinema had to go through.

 Happy Valentines day

Those of you that know my housemate Stephanie Le Jamtel and I on a personal level, will be aware of our tendancy to get ourselves into an array of amusing, yet potentially hazardous ‘scrapes’. I am the Boo-Boo to her Yogi, she is the Mutley to my Dick Dastardly…

…Tonight, was of course, no exception.

It all started at an engagement party, the kind in which you find yourself drinking too many cocktails and questioning life. Stef and I found ourselves combating a mixture of sleep deprevation, illness and discomfort (high shoes) by inhaling the helium from the party balloons. We sang a rendition of ‘Defying Gravity’ and then went on to impersonate the aliens from Toy Story.

This continued for half an hour (yes, half an hour) until we were well and truly hyped, as  well as a little light headed.

As time drew on, we decided to make our excuses and leave. However, this was not before we lifted every item of food we could possibly manage. We filled our bags with cupcakes, brownies and falafel, and managed the theft of not one, but TWO pringles tubes.

We left the party, content, unaware of the horrors that would soon befall us.

After an hour waiting at the deserted platform at Sandhurst Station, we began wonder if there was something someone was not telling us…

To pass time we sang songs by our favourite artist: ‘speak’ the Hungarian rapper (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=saOcunGi1a8) and ran across the railway tracks (just because we’d never done it before)

Another half an hour passed, and by that time, we had been sat in the freezing cold for a long time, and the liquids we had drank had started to catch up with us. We decided to venture across the tracks to a local pub, just below the station.

When in the pib we were instantly accosted by a group of “men” who instantly assumed that calling us ‘ladies’ and enquiring into the food we were carrying would get them laid. We made our way through the hoardes of pervy men to the promised land…the ladies toilets.

When in the toilet, I had the bright idea of fitting us both into the cubicle…VERY BAD IDEA. The landlady…Obviously noticing the attention we had recieved from the locals was soon banging on the door (as I was in mid pee.) She informed us that it was not a public toilet and instantly accused us of snorting coke.

I, being a champion blagger, managed to convince her that we were actually both fantastic human beings, who more than deserved to pee in her toilets.

Luckily for us, she bought it. She even managed a smile.

Back at the station, we wondered if our time was up, and started making plans to set up shop in Sandhurst for the night. We then climbed the station sign in a bizzare kind of recognition.

During this, I ripped my tights.

After three more phone calls (Will Free, a friend from Cardiff, Fran Gardiner, resident housemate and Jonathan Boyd, resident boyfriend) a train pulled up at the platform.

In complete Euphoria, we jumped it, without realising that it was infact taking us further and further away from our destination…

…On the train, there was laughing and singing. We thought we were finally going home, and even managed a reprise of our ‘Speak’ tribute, but, on arriving at Wokingham Station (again, deserted), we realised that we were infact, stranded.

A nice man told us that we were, in the nicest way, screwed, as the train that would take us back to Egham had stopped running hours before.

Another forty five minutes passed, Stef and I found ourselves desolately waiting for some kind of a solution.

Seven pounds between us meant that the sixty pound taxi fare was impossible, and an abundance of wine was preventing Fran from jumping to our rescue (as she so usually does.) We called the Reidie, we called Rachel, we called everybody, but no one could help us.

It seemed we were doomed to spend a night in Wokingham.

Then quite per chance a glowing aura from a nearby Taxi caught my eye. “That,” I thought, “looks like a good taxi”.

I walked over and asked how much it would be for the driver to take us to Egham. He replied that he could offer us a fixed fare of 38 pounds.

This was better than the sixty pound we had been told earlier.

Stef said she would be able to withdraw said amount from her bank account, which meant we would only be twenty pounds each poorer…

Very soon, we were on our way.

In the cab, we mourned our lack of money and sung miserably, when, in horror, we remembered the baked goods we’d shoved in our bags hours earlier…

…”Squished” does not even begin to describe the mess we encountered when opening our bags.

After an arduous 30 minute journey, which probabaly should have cost us more, our taxi brought us safely back to the white house.

We offered the driver a squished white chocolate and rasberry cupcake and proceeded to spend the rest of our night picking icing off of our valuables.

Now I’m back in the diff’ I have to try and wrestle my little brother Josh off the computer in order to get anything done. Sadly, my Mum and Dad back Josh by saying “You have a laptop, go and work on that!” Little do they know that my laptop has a cracked screen. They would kill me if they found out.

 Josh isn’t in at the moment, so the computer is aaaaall mine.  

I trust everybody had a wonderful christmas. Mine was quiet…one of the first peaceful Christmas’ I’ve had in a long while. Sharpe is on, my tummy is full of left over Turkey and I’m generally quite content…

…HOWEVER…

….Now is not the time to start relaxing. Why? You ask. Chrismas is over, no more presents to buy, no more stressful family meetings, no more pretending that you like the hideous clothing your family bought you. Surely the hard part is over?

No my friends, for next comes New Year.

 Last New Years celebrations were suitably shambolic. I was amongst friends and pleasantly stewed, but ended up having an arguement over text (never a good idea). The person I was arguing with ruined my night (and the majority of 2007).

I remember the text message he sent me, mid morning, after everything we could possibly say had been said:

“Great start to the new year, missy.”

It was at that moment I knew that the 2007 was going to be a trial, and by God I was right.

It began with tears, confusion, uncertainty and a severe bashing to my confidence. But, amidst the unbearability, a handful of friends made it known that I could trust them always, and made me feel sane again.

2007 brought an unbelievable desire to want to succeed, probabaly because I was demeaned for the first few months. Because of this, I got involved with as much as possible, and realised how many activities and people I had missed out on.

I spent the most amazing Summer in America, and subsequently hit an almighty wall upon my return. It seemed my perspectives had been altered forever, and, although September to Novemeber were extremely difficult, I realised that I had learnt a little more about myself, and a little more about the situations I’d endured.

 I don’t want to be like Dave Peltzer and whinge about all the obstacles I’ve faced in my short life, but, I’m aware that the majority of us hit lows, especially around this time.

So incase any of you feel down sometimes I feel I should inform you that I have recently discovered that life is all about attitude and perspective. My Grandma (aged 85) constantly tells me to “Be optimistic”. She also tells me to say the Hail mary 10 times every night. She is in constant pain from athritis and is always too cold, but she has had the most unbelievably interesting life. Sometimes we sit down, crack out an old chest of photos and she tells me stories. Stories I never get bored of. This year I think I will take her advice and ‘be optimistic’…Not too sure about the Hail Marys.     

I won’t recover from the things that happened in 2007, but, as cheesy and ‘Destiny’s child’ as it sounds, I truly believe that everything that threw itself in my path, only made me stronger…

…So, in conclusion 2007 was a bit shit, but maybe it was supposed to be. I’d like to think I was tested for a reason, and some ethereal force rescued me from myself.

 I want to wish everybody an amazing 2008, and spread the importance of a ‘good attitude’. This is reading like a self help book, but life really is all about your attitude to things.  

On the 8.4.08 I will be turning 21, and, as far as I’m concerned, that will be an adventure in itself. Andrew MacMahon composed a song called ’21 and invincible’, and by the time my birthday comes around, that is how I want to feel. Invincible.

 Happy New Year everyone! I’m off to write the essays I should’ve written a month ago.

 Bah.