"I don't trust men that have beards...

... I don't trust men that wear sandals. I don't trust caravan owners." - Dude on Come Dine With Me

Amen. I'll add short guys and blonde guys to that list. (Yes, I know I'm blonde, it's a bit of hypocrisy I practice.)

Anyway, I had some nice things happen tonight. Or at least some things that made me chuckle.

- The 18 year old (if he's a day) who works at my local pub said I was "well fit" and asked would I like to go to dinner with him? As they say here, awwww bless. I had no words, which is rare for me. I always have words. Too many, in point of fact. I just giggled and said, "I bet you say that to all the girls." Then I ran away.

- This actually happened a few days ago but I forgot to share it as my memory is like a sieve. One of the first boys I ever kissed found me on facebook and sent me loads of flirty little messages. The flattering flatterer (we all know I love that) told me that he would be rich if he had my voice. Dang, how come I'm not rich?

- I feel totally at home in my little village now. Besides being asked out by the little barmen, I have been recognized on the street today, at the cafe, and at the market. It's nice to feel like I'm a little Brit. I also got teased at the pub tonight for wearing a Liverpool hoodie. It's not like I'm a fan but I forgot in Britain that soccer is a serious sport. Oooops.

Anyway, overall it's been a wonderful day. I really do love living here in Antartica, even when my mom says it's 70 degrees and gorgeous sunshine at home.

Day by day...

...i'm growing stronger, as the song from my religious days in the past says. Some days though, you just have to stop, recognize your limits and go the fuck home.

Tonight, I strapped on my sparkle headband (after an absolute shit week) and went out with a group. And, I just wasn't ready. I tried. I wore a dress. I wore liquid eyeliner. And the whole time, I just wanted to go home and watch Come Dine With Me in my jammies. So, I left. Sure, some folks seemed disappointed that I left at 9:30- but I just couldn't stay any longer. So, I went home, washed my face and put my hair up in a ponytail and layed down on the sofa.

I feel better now. I wish I could be the girl that isn't sensitive, and isn't sometimes jaded and hopes, hopes, hopes eternally. I am. But, sometimes I just need to go the fuck home. Tonight was one of those nights. I'm still hopeful.

Ooooooh sparkly...

I must have been a raccoon in a former life. Sparkly things make me happy. Really happy.

Anyway, I digress. I finished the paper that was mentioned in the previous blog of stressy panic and crazy. Amen. So it is written, so it is done and all that. And, I am even considering starting on the monster beast of epic wordness that is due next Friday. I know, crazy right?

This means that today I am free and easy and I am enjoying myself mightily. Once I clean the disgusting tip that I call my house, I'm going to head into town for a bit of shopping and then off to a dance class. In fact, I'm taking my very first dance class in Yorkshire. And, also my very first dance class in the UK since I moved here in September. We'll talk about that in a second- let's get back to sparkly things. I am wearing my most very favorite sparkly headband (daytime tiara) and I feel like a million bucks. I'm hoping the sparkly headband distracts from my general out-of-shapeness in class tonight.

I feel kind of ashamed that I haven't taken class since I've been here. I think this is probably the longest I've ever been out of the studio since I was a young'un. And here's why, brace yourself- I behaved like a fucking moron last year. I let myself get wrapped up in a crappy relationship where we virtually never left the house. And then when it ended I dissolved into a teary mess of 'why me, why me' tears. Yuck. Never again.

I've tried to analyze why I a. let myself think I was happy with a guy that treated me pretty crappily b. allowed myself to get sucked into a cycle of staying in every night like a bunch of fucking hermits and c. was really gutted and a sloppy mess of crazy when said boring, crappy, totally unfun relationship ended. Sheesh, I should have thrown a party when he walked out. I don't have a clear answer as to why, I just know that I will never stay in a situation like that again.

I feel a bit like I'm in that Garth Brooks song "Unanswered Prayers." (Don't you go judging my secret love for country music) I wake up every morning feeling so in love with my life it's unreal. Ok, maybe I feel a bit less cheery on essay deadline mornings, but y'all know what I mean. I've made a group of friends that are ever expanding, I'm dating this amazing man (yeah, yeah I know I haven't talked about him yet- but that's for another blog) I'm making it through this MA somehow and I absolutely love living in England. I feel like this paragraph is totally Pollyanna, so I'll stop here.

So yeah yeah, this has been a very happy new year for this girl. And, I really like sparkly things.

Seriously, just shoot me now...

I hate being such a major, giant, huge ridiculous procrastinator. I have 3000 words due on Monday and I've written, oh I don't know- eleven? Not to make excuses, but *ahem* here goes:

I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT!!!!!

Thus far today I have pretty much done everything to avoid this assignment, WHICH IS DUE MONDAY. This included activities such as cleaning my salt and pepper shakers, rearranging my collection of bee-yoo-tiful boots and vacuuming the stairs. I am so fucked.

The problem is not the 3000 words. It's the fact that the 3000 words are a statement of intention for my huge ass research project that is essentially my dissertation. I don't want to spend the next eight months of my life researching something that makes me want to blow my brains out. Le sigh.

There have been some other happy developments in Sarah-land recently but I'm hesitant to mention anything lest I jinx myself. Suffice to say, I am a very happy and lucky girl of late. Now, if I could just finish this bloody assignment!!!

Decisions, decisions...

So today I made a big choice. I was planning to move into my own little flat and today I decided to instead move into a houseshare. With boys. I know the main boy really well so it's not like I'm moving in with random dudes, and I'm hopeful it will be a nice place to live. I've never lived with boys (er, men) that weren't my partner, so this should be a grand adventure. A few of my male friends have been teasing me about how gross boys are, but I figure I can keep them in line. I think I made a good decision. I'll be able to travel more, buy more shoes, and spend time hanging out with my new roomies. If it doesn't work out, I'll move out and find my own place. This is all a big adventure and I want to keep jumping into it with two feet, even if sometimes my heart gets a little bit bruised.

One of my favorite people in the world today told me that I'm the most adorable, amazing mess he knows. When someone else calls you a mess, it stings a little. Even when it's prefaced with adorable and amazing. He's right though, I am and always will be a little bit of a mess. But, aren't we all?

I'm doing really well though. I feel optimistic and the school work is getting there. Just eleventy thousand words to go! My new housemate said today that it looks like I'm getting back to my happy-go-lucky self. I'm getting back to that carefree, fun California girl that is definitely strong and smart enough to make it in England. Here's hoping.

Another one bites the dust...

Le sigh. So, the sweet, charming, and funny guy I met the other day has decided that he is going to be smart, charming and funny with somebody else. We only went on one date, but after over 50 emails and many, many texts combined with a fantastic date- I'm left feeling pretty disappointed. I'm not crying into my cheerios, but I am bummed out.

Everyone keeps telling me to stop looking, focus on myself and enjoy being single. It's great advice but it's much easier said than done. I really hate being single. I like cooking dinner with someone every night and cuddling on the couch. I like having someone to text all the time and vent to about school or work or whatever. I know Mr. Right is out there somewhere and I just need to be patient. But anyone who knows me knows that patience is NOT my strongest suit. I guess it's not as if I have any choice at this point.

I was kinda proud of myself yesterday. When Dom and I split I was a snotty mess for a few weeks. I didn't leave the house or even shower unless I was forced to go to school. I stopped eating and lost nearly ten pounds (all of which came back when I went home- I blame In-n-Out and Taco Bell) and I was basically a mess. Yesterday, I saw the hand writing on the wall with email date dude, and rather than wallow at home I got dressed, slapped on my sparkle headband and walked up to the pub with my book. And, wouldn't you know it I made some new friends. Actually, it was kind of funny how I met the new friends. I saw a couple come into the pub and just glancing at them, I could tell the girl was American. It's sort of like a sixth sense I have, Yankee radar or something. Anyway, I saw her go out for a cigarette and I leaped out of my seat, knocking an old man over in the process, to also go and smoke. I asked for a light and she heard my accent and we immediately launched into bitching about the lack of Taco Bell and good hot wings. She introduced me to everyone in the pub and the old man I knocked over will probably live. It was a good night out.

I have decided to move out of the house that Dom and I moved into together and into my own place. It's time. This place doesn't hold a lot of good memories for me and I'm ready to have my own little apartment. I plan to make it extra super duper girly and cheerful. I'm looking forward to a year of fresh starts and hope. Lots of hope.

Happy New Year and all that...

Happy New Year to all three of you that read my blog! It's been a hell of a year and I'm feeling pretty positive about 2011. Jenn and I are nursing our hangovers and bitching that we can't have breakfast tacos in this Mexican food wasteland. I do really like it here, but there need to me more diners and places that serve delicious Mexican food. On New Years Day at 11 a.m. Wishful thinking I suppose.

In the New Year I plan to be really fucking positive. I'm always cheerful (for the most part) but sometimes I forget the forest for the trees (pardon the cliche) and I let myself think negatively. Honestly, what good comes of that?

I met someone the other night. He's really wonderful and smart and handsome and I'm trying not to get ahead of myself and plan our children's names or china pattern. I'm just going to chill out and enjoy this one. He seems great and I really hope it works out and all that.

I have a tattoo on my foot that says 'hope.' While I know this is cheesy as can be, sometimes I look down and see it and feel really fucking hopeful. So, that's my motto for the New Year- Hope. Not lose weight, or stop smoking or any of that- I just want to live positively and hope.

I'll let you know how it goes.