Another one bites the dust

Well, I'm not quite as fabulous as Freddie, hard as I try. For a start, I haven't updated this thing in ages, to my abject shame. Given it's been so long, I wish I had more to write about. I've been consumed by work, as you can see:

The ProPlus in the background being the one thing that kept me from collapse.

However, as of 12:01pm, Tuesday May 14th 2013, I left the world of higher education and officially joined the ranks of the unemployed. I thought I'd enjoy being a lady of leisure, but so far it's been bitterly disappointing. I seem to spend most of the time drunk, hungover, or trying to restore my sleeping pattern, which has been completely and utterly annihilated by too many nights spend staring at my many essays until my vision went blurry. It would have been nice to learn how to manage my time effectively before it stopped mattering, but oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Anyway, now I have absolutely nothing left in my life, maybe I'll fill it with achieving some of these goals of mine... or maybe not. I've done a crappy job so far. However, not for nothing is this post called 'Another one bites the dust'. One more goal has been ticked off my list, ladies and gents. Myself and my baker friend went to donate blood a few days after dissertation hand-in. It wasn't actually anywhere near as bad as I'd feared, though there were a few hairy moments. The first was when my blood mysteriously stopped flowing altogether, which, let me tell you know, is quite alarming, particularly when you end up surrounded by clinicians all wearing looks of concern. Eventually it transpired to be an errant clamp, so it was a relief to know that I'm not actually dead. However, the hairiest moment of all was probably a couple of days later, when I came dangerously close to passing out after an overwhelmingly steamy shower (oi oi). Having said that, that might have been down to my hangover.

Let it be known, ladies and gents, that drinking the best part of a bottle of wine, accompanied by a large amount of vodka, is not a very good idea the day after having a pint of blood drained from you. Actually, it's not a great idea anyway.

On the bright side, I got a nice war wound:

SAVING LIVES 2k13.

So, what else is going on? Well, now that university's over for good, I'm feeling sort of... bereft. I'm not really sure what to do with myself. I've started job hunting, though most of my efforts have been sabotaged by my complete inability to turn down alcohol. I keep intending to go in to town, but then drinks happen and several hours later, the shops are closed and I'm so wrecked nobody would hire me anyway even if I was the last person on Earth. This blog has become not so much a documentation of my achievements as an alarming insight into my drinking habits, not helped by the fact that my Eurovision party last night descended into mayhem.

Don't be fooled. Behind the scenes was carnage.

Oh, Eurovision. I don't understand why you exist, and the endless bitter humiliation when even geography cannot guarantee us points is almost too much to bear, but for all your shitness you are wonderful and I love you. Even if you alone are responsible for how rotten I feel right now. On the bright side, I think I made a new friend in my bathroom floor.

Other than that, there's not a whole lot to report. I need to start taking job hunting seriously, I need to start running properly again because I've been a lazy son of a gun, I need to write to my grandparents... basically, I need to do everything.

Then again, I could go out for a few drinks.

Pole goals and work shirk

So, as you may be able to surmise from the title of this post, pole's been going well. Work, however, has not. In the quest to finish the dissertation that is due a week today (OH GOD), I'm discovering a lot about myself, namely that my capacity for procrastination is endless, I have the attention span of a goldfish, and I am very unlikely to turn down cake when it is offered. Cake is my fuel, and I have a good friend who is possibly the most skilled baker ever to walk this hallowed Earth. Fuck maintaining this 9 stone goal weight, I think I may be on the verge of eating myself into an early grave.

Let's move on to a more positive note, and discuss pole. Last time I wrote here, I'd conquered the upside-down crucifix, was working on the dropback (which I now have nailed, turns out putting your hands on the pole behind you helps with levering yourself back up), and the less said about the climbing the better. Well, today, I have a whole lot to say about climbing. Why? Because I climbed to the top of the damn pole, is why. Seriously. I have photographic evidence and everything.



Try to contain yourselves.

 So there we have it - one more goal ticked off my list! That's two down so far, what with the bike riding (I must, err, practise at some point... it's not really legit if I forget all over again). Just nineteen to go! I say 'just', that's a hell of a lot of work to do. I'm barely coping as it is. My dissertation is going to be the death of me, and even if I survive that, I still have three more essays to do before I finish uni for good. The next few weeks are going to be filled with tears, snot, and long stints in the library. Wonderful.

On to more cheerful territory. I mentioned last time that I was hosting a dinner party, and would either return high as a kite, having huffed on the fumes of my own sweet success, or come limping back with my tail between my legs, with a court case hanging over me having been sued for giving my dear friends a raging case of food poisoning. Well, it's been a couple of weeks now, so I'm not exactly tripping out, but I can proudly announce that everything went off beautifully, although I very nearly annihilated my kitchen in the process. I think I managed to use every single item of kitchenware in the flat, and most of it wasn't mine. The washing up took days. On the bright side, everything tasted delicious... so delicious, in fact, that we couldn't stop eating. I think my stomach has permanently stretched. Between the three of us, we managed to drink half a bottle of tequila and half a bottle of vodka, yet we'd eaten so much that every last drop of alcohol was sucked up, like a highly efficient sponge. Ordinarily I'd have been trashed; instead I was just slightly off-balance. And that might have been my heels. I ended up making lime and chili pitta chips with homemade hummous and crudites to start, followed by a main course of... *deep breath* falafel; lamb and apricot meatballs; honey-spiced aubergine with grilled blood oranges; jewelled couscous; stir fried carrot with mango, ginger and pistachios; and garam masala roasted broccoli with almonds. Phew! We actually couldn't eat dessert until about half 11, because we were still kind of lolling about suffering with severe food comas, but eventually we managed to digest just enough to squeeze down a further course of passionfruit souffle with vanilla creme fraiche. Despite feeling so full I thought food was going to start oozing from my every pore, it was a brilliant evening, not least because I had several tequila sunrises.

So, without further ado, here is my Moroccan feast, in all its technicolor glory. Try not to salivate, computers don't respond well to that.

Front left: honey-spiced aubergine; front right: lamb and apricot meatballs; back right: tomato sauce for the meatballs.

Faces obscured for reasons of anonymity. Nicolas Cage was not present. Unfortunately.

Passionfruit souffle with vanilla creme fraiche

The Gaza Strip, a.k.a. my kitchen

Aside from shinning my way up poles and cooking banquets worthy of Henry VIII, progress has been made elsewhere. Knowing that one of my goals is to learn Russian, which happens to be his degree, my baker friend ended up turning teacher and giving me an impromptu Russian lesson over dinner. This started with, as all good Russian lessons should, a bottle of vodka.

Thank you, Mother Russia, for your glorious exports.

I can now tell you that that Cyrillic gobbledegook does, in fact, say 'Russian Standard'. Yes, I know it's on the label in English. No, that's not cheating. I know what those weirdass letters actually mean now. I won't go into detail here, but let me just say one thing - they will fuck you over. That backwards N thing? Yeah, that's not an N. Not even close.

Otherwise, it's all fairly quiet. I'm still running... in fact, I was supposed to be going for a run with my flatmate tomorrow morning, but having just seen the time, let's just say I'll probably end up crawling to the gym instead. I'm planning on giving blood once the dissertation is handed in, but need to plan that around my drinking, or vice versa. It really should be the latter, but the fact of the matter is I'm so stressed right now that alcohol will be taking priority. Once that's done, I can start thinking about getting my piercing, although given the state of my bank account, that might be somewhat delayed. I've not written to my grandparents for a while, which I feel awful about, especially as I didn't get a chance to see them while I was home, so I must do that. I've applied for a few internships, so we'll see how that goes, but I'm not holding my breath. My nails have been chewed right down due to stress and anxiety, ick. And The Daily Mail's website is still my go-to for procrastination in the library. Overall, it's looking a bit disappointing. Still, onwards and upwards. Nose to the grindstone tomorrow.

Or maybe I'll just eat cake.

Of crucifixes and carpet burns

What's this? Another post within two weeks of the last one?

I'm spoiling you lot.

Anyway, before I collapse into a rather gratuitious wankfest of self-congratulation, I'd better crack on with a progress report, which brings me on the rather kinky and somewhat blasphemous title of this post. Rest assured it's nothing as filthy as it sounds, although pole dancing isn't exactly the most chaste of activities. Anyway, I rocked up to class tonight, feeling kinda tired after a long day (a.k.a. 3 or 4 hours) in the library hitting the books (a.k.a. reading this, convulsing with barely suppressed laughter and flinching away from the annoyed glares of everybody who actually takes their degree seriously). I'd actually already been to the gym in the morning, and I had an intense workout yesterday afternoon (more on that later!), so although I was feeling good, I wasn't really expecting anything major to happen, seeing as my body was pretty tired. But it did! Okay, I still can't fucking climb, I just kind of end up clinging limply to the pole like a sloth, but after weeks of managing to get upside down, and then just kind of chilling up there for a while before sliding back down to Earth and assuming a foetal position on the carpet, I finally managed to pull off this little beauty: the crucifix.

DISCLAIMER: THIS IS NOT MY BODY. My ass is bigger and I don't look that serene when my thighs are burning like the fiery depths of Dante's ninth circle.
(image from: thepolestudio.towerbureau.com)

Unfortunately I couldn't pull off the dropback I've been working on, which looks a bit like this, except it never occurred to me to put my hands behind me like that before. Normally once I've let go of my ankle I just dangle uselessly.

Unless you have the core strength of a fucking bodybuilder, do not try this at home.
(image from:  www.poleandfitnessstudio.co.uk)

I don't know if the hands would make it easier, because my problem at the moment is that my core just will not let me get back up. I've managed to get within about an inch before, but then I have to make a choice: either I succumb and grab back on to my ankle, levering myself back up to the safety of the pole; or I do what I did today and kind of slide down to the floor, awkwardly shimmying my back along the floor to give my legs some room to return safely to Earth. The former is definitely the preferably option, because the latter results either in carpet burns along the entire length of my back (this is what happened tonight), or a pole wedged up my ass, neither of which are particularly pleasant scenarios. Either way, tonight was a brilliant session, although my thighs ache and I just know I'm going to groan in horror when I wake up tomorrow and remember that I have to hit the gym before hitting the books. Such is the life and times of a third year undergraduate.

Okay, back to that gym session I mentioned. Last time I mentioned how I was easing myself back into the running after my ankle-related woes. Well, yesterday, I dragged myself in for a late session, having skipped out on Friday's planned run after the SlavSoc Maslenitsa celebrations (Russian Pancake Week, if you're wondering) somehow escalated into a house party where I consumed a mixture of vodka, beer, Pimms and some very cheap cider, followed by a Saturday night which saw me awkwardly chain-smoking whilst my flatmate hosted a dinner party which descended into chaos once they all ended up out of their minds on substances of questionable legality. After the abuse I'd subjected my lungs and liver to, I wasn't I'd manage a five minute jog, let alone a halfway decent run. However, by some utter miracle I managed to get back to where I was at in terms of distance, plus a little bit more - 5.3km in 30 minutes, and despite dousing my respiratory system with tar, it was one of the easiest, bounciest runs I've ever done. I've been messing around with the speed on the treadmill lately, and if it's a good song I'll speed it up a little, and generally keep going at that speed until another tune tickles me lugholes. I've gone from running consistently at 10kph to building it up slowly and finishing on 11.5kph, which I'm seriously happy about. The real test is going to be taking it outside, which I've been saying for weeks now... unfortunately the weather up here is so bloody erratic, and every time it's sunny I have other commitments, which seem to mostly involve me sat inside listening to a lecturer chatting bollocks about, well, bollocks, whilst bitterly lamenting the fact that I could be outside enjoying one of the very few times when it's not pissing down. Once I can go outside without it being either snowing, raining, or otherwise sub-zero, I'll start training in the park. Or at least that's what I keep telling myself. It's now the middle of March, though you wouldn't know it to look outside.

All this shitty weather is making me think of warmer times ahead. I have a date for my final deadline now, May 14th, which, wouldn't you know it, falls just in time for me to dash back darn Sarf and take part in Walk4Matt 2013, which is something I've been thinking about doing since I first decided I wanted to raise a thousand pounds for charity. For anybody who doesn't know, Matt Hampson was a former U21 rugby player who became a quadriplegic after he was injured in a collapsed scrum. He now raises money to help people who've had similar experiences to him, plus he still coaches, writes, etc. Basically, an all round legend. Anyway, the Walk4Matt is a 110 mile walk, from Rugby to Twickenham, along the Grand Union Canal. You live on a canal boat for a week, you drink pretty much anything you can lay your hands on, and you also get tickets to the Premiership Final at Twickenham. Despite my dad having been an obsessive rugby fan for as long as I can remember, I still don't have the first clue how the sodding game actually works, but then I've never been a girl to pass up any opportunity to see large groups of muscle-bound men running around in very small, very tight shorts.

I can overlook the cauliflower ears.
(image from: www.guardian.co.uk)

I haven't quite decided whether or not to do the full week or just the day walk, it depends what days my Dad's doing. Charity stuff is kind of mine and Dad's thing. We've done Crisis together for the past five years, he's done The Great British 10k a few times, and he does a lot of charity auctions and dinners, mostly with rugby memorabilia. I did one or two days with the walkers when I was on study leave for my AS exams (when I, err, should have been studying. I'm attributing my cocking up most of them to the fact that I was hungover after a very messy 21st down in Bath, rather than the whole being-on-a-boat-when-I-should-have-been-revising thing), and I absolutely loved it... but I was pretty pleased to come home and have a shower. Call me selfish, but I'm a bit fussy about personal hygiene and I cannot stand having a greasy face and barnet, it makes my skin crawl. I did have a shower on the boat, but it didn't compare to being at home, plus there was the slight issue of me managing to dye the tub in a hired canal boat an alarming shade of scarlet after I unadvisedly dyed my hair the night before going away. It looked like Norman Bates had been in there.

"What do you mean it won't wash off?!"
(image from: storiesbehindthescreen.wordpress.com)

I'm hoping it's not still snowing come May, otherwise walking 110 bloody miles is not going to be a barrel of laughs. I think I just need to get out of England altogether. I would give anything for a holiday right now. I haven't managed to come to any sort of decision as to where outside of the UK I want to head to, although there are vague whispers of a city break with my Dad and sister... not quite what I had in mind, but he did suggest Rome, which I'd really love to see (as would Jen, my little sister, still in the throes as she is of a serious Assassin's Creed obsession). As for in the UK itself, one of my closest friends from back home has just landed himself a cushy new job down in Bristol, and one thing that means is regular business trips to Dublin... there's a possibility there of being able to swing it so that I can join him for a weekend and cross Ireland off my list. Dublin has been somewhere I've wanted to visit for years, although whenever this friend and I get together and there is alcohol involved, it ends in sheer, utter carnage. Dublin, you better watch yourself.

However, before any of this comes to fruition, I need to get this sodding degree out of the way. I'm now on Easter break, but far from gorging myself on chocolate eggs and hot cross buns (if only!), I'm slaving away in the library working on the dissertation that I've abandoned for far too long. I've decided that once I've handed it in, I'm finally allowed to treat myself to that new piercing, though I haven't decided what to get yet. I'm kind of torn between navel and tongue. I know my parents will hate both, but I think they'd have considerably less hate for the former, plus they're less likely to find out about it. I never get my stomach out because I don't like it, and while I don't make a habit of poking my tongue out, I do talk. A lot. The chances of me getting rumbled, resulting in an argument that I can't be arsed with, are very high indeed. I'll have to think about it some more. However, before I get needles shoved through my flesh, I need to have one shoved into my vein. Yes, I need to donate blood before I get any bolts in my body, seeing as you can't give blood for six months after any sort of body modification due to infection risk (there are a lot of infection risks, apparently, most of which I think are completely fucking stupid, but that's a rant for another time). I'll try to book an appointment this week, and prepare for it by drinking water by the bucketload, seeing as last time it was, quite literally, like getting blood from a stone.

Other plans for the near future include a possible midweek sci-fi quiz (don't take this to mean I know the first thing about sci-fi, because that would be a complete lie) and a dinner party on Saturday night. Totally irrelevant to my goals, but I like cooking, and I like food blogs, so chances are I'll end up on here crowing triumphantly about my success, or shamefacedly recounting the tale of how I poisoned some of my dearest friends. Either way, it'll hopefully be accompanied by photos of dishes you can either drool over, or thank your lucky stars you weren't subjected to. When the time comes, I'll let you be the judge.

I suck donkey balls

Well, not literally. But I think you get the sentiment.

I am the world's shittiest blogger. When I first started this, I had visions of blogging weekly, more if anything exciting happened. Then nothing exciting happened for a while. And then when exciting things did happen, I was too busy/tired/lazy to actually blog about it. And then more time passed. And then I lost track of things, exciting or otherwise. And then it got to today and something kind of exciting happened, and I thought... yeah... I have that blog thing.

Anyway, this is my vague attempt at an apology. To be honest, I'm not entirely convinced anybody reads this, and as such maybe an apology is totally unwarranted. But my conscience is now clear. Ish.

So, on to progress updates. If anybody is reading this, you're going to have to forgive me for the rambling, mostly incoherent post that is about to follow. It's been over a month now, and I've totally forgotten what most of my 21 goals even are, let alone how I'm doing on them. Oh well. Onwards and upwards. I'm also, for the first time, actually including photos. Sorry about the glare - I'm using my rather old, crappy phone. Hopefully I'll be sorting out a new one with a halfway decent camera sometime in the next, I don't know, decade.

I made reference to an exciting thing happening somewhere further up, so I should probably start with that. My gym at uni has this weird little system where you have a key, kind of like a USB stick, that you plug into each machine, so it records your usage - calories, distance, time, and so on. At the beginning and the end of every session, you plug your key into this little touch-screen thing, and it tells you about your whole workout, and everything you've done the whole time you've been using the gym. I have data on there dating back to when I first started working out, which was February 2011, I think. Anyway, after a good cardio and weights session (more on that later), I plugged in my key... and this popped up.

BOOM.

In about 2 years, I've burnt off over 200,000 kcals. That's the equivalent of 100 days worth of food for the average adult female, and that's without factoring in basal metabolic rate, workouts at places other than my uni gym, etc. I'm amazed! It might not be completely exciting to you, but I'm ecstatic. To me, that's proof of how hard I've worked. Plus it makes me feel slightly better about all the vodka I drank last night.

So, I've burnt a fuckton of calories, but how am I actually doing in terms of all the fitness/lifestyle goals I set for myself? Well, it's been a bit up and down. Last time I actually bothered to write anything here, I mentioned how I'd finally managed to run 5km indoors.

That lasted all of about 2 days.

You know how I mentioned my ankles were caning? Well, I went out and bought some new running shoes and fancy socks. Let me tell you know that these are the ugliest fucking shoes I've ever seen in my life. You want proof? I'll give you proof.

Told you so.

"If they're so ugly, why did you buy them?" I hear you ask. Well, they were cheap, and they were (supposedly) designed for people with flat feet like mine (how gross do 'flat feet' sound? My feet aren't actually that gross, I promise). After buying these shoes, despite them being a crime against good taste, I was super-pumped, and figured all my problems would be solved.

Wrong, Kate. Oh, so very wrong.

Within a few days, I pretty much couldn't walk. There's a valuable lesson to be learnt here - never, ever overtrain, especially when you're in pain, because you will end up walking with an exaggerated limp on both sides. It felt like I had trenchfoot. When I eventually made my way pitifully to the GP, I was told to lay off the running for two weeks. Now, I never realised this before, but two weeks is a long time in terms of training. When I eventually returned to the treadmill, it was like I'd taken a giant leap backwards in time, back to when I couldn't run full-stop. This in turn made me feel kind of dispirited, so I'd avoid running in favour of other cardio. Luckily,  it also seems that when you're training properly, although you'll lose a lot of ground in a short space of time, it's pretty easy to recover. Yesterday I managed to get back up to a 20 minute run, and for the first time in weeks now, I enjoyed it. I felt like my lungs had been filled with highly concentrated sulphuric acid, but I felt great. Other than the burning sensation. That didn't feel so great.

In the meantime, I've been working hard on other fitness goals. I had pole on Monday, and after a couple of weeks where I was so shit it was like I was a beginner all over again, the past few weeks have been good. My climbing is slowly improving, and I'm adept at getting upside down now. I'm hoping to start getting some pictures from class online soon, seeing as I'm now good enough that I don't look like I'm participating in a reenactment of that scene from Bridget Jones' Diary. You know which one I'm talking about.

Yeah. That one.
(image from: wheniwasjoe.blogspot.com)

I might not be able to climb to the top of the pole, but remember that bike I mentioned? After many protestations about how I was embarrassed/scared/etc, and much cajoling from The Lad, we finally took 'er out. In doing so, we learnt one or two lessons about why you never buy things on a whim from Gumtree. The front brake doesn't work, and The Lad snapped the gears while trying to make them, you know, actually work. It's not so much a bike as a death trap, but I'm never going to be Victoria Pendleton, so I think I'll cope. Here she is.

What a beauty. Bike's not bad either.

You see that goofy grin on my face? That, ladies and gentleman, is a grin of triumph. For this picture was taken just after I managed to ride my way around Hyde Park. That's right, I can legit cycle now. So long as there's nobody else on the path, it's a pedestrianised area, there aren't any hills, and nobody's watching me. But that's okay. Baby steps. What you can't see in that picture in my skinned hands after a short but vicious argument with a hedge, which the hedge won hands down. We won't dwell on that.

Enough about fitness and lifestyle now - how am I getting on with my other goals? Well, I've managed to keep up with writing to my grandparents (good), my grades were excellent but are now beginning to slip somewhat after a very stressful cluster of deadlines (worrying), my nails are pretty much bitten down to the quick (disgusting), and I haven't read a single book (outrageous). In fairness, with the amount of studying I've been doing for various essays, let alone reading a bloody book, it feels like I've written one. Speaking of reading, I'm actually supposed to have read The Brothers Karamazov by... shit, tomorrow. It's over 900 pages long. I have read about thirty. This is going to be a fun seminar.

One last thing. I put giving blood on my list of goals, and a few weeks ago, I popped along to the donation centre with the aim of getting that crossed off my to-do list. Now, I'd have thought this would be pretty straightforward - you book an appointment (easier said than done, since the phone is constantly fucking engaged and they have some weird opening hours), you go along, ideally not hungover (I'll admit to scheduling said appointment around my social calendar - bad Kate), you sit around having blood sucked out your arm, you get free biscuits (bonus), you go home. Piece of cake, right?

WRONG.

I went along with a friend to donate, and in the end, both of us were turned away. Why? She's recently started some long-term medication and she needs to settle into a regular dosage pattern before she can donate. As for me, I thought I was fine. I'm healthy, my blood sugar and haemoglobin were fine, all perfect. They strap me into a chair, they tighten the tourniquet, and they look for a vein. And they keep looking. And they poke my arm a bit, and look again. And then they call someone over. And then they switch arms. And then they look some more. And then they give up and send me home.

So, apparently I have the circulatory system of a seasoned heroin addict. On the bright side, I got a free Club biscuit. Every cloud...

Progress! (and the lack thereof)

Yet again, this is a very delayed update. I really am terrible at this whole blogging thing! It doesn't help that I'm not making particularly great progress on these challenges of mine, so I haven't had masses to write about... I know, I know, I'm a total letdown. However, I do have one or two bits and pieces to share, so I'm not going to procrastinate any longer - I AM updating today!

So this week was my first week back at uni, and I'm getting back into the swing of things, slowly but surely. It feels like absolutely forever since I've been sat in a lecture theatre! For once, I've actually kept up to date with my reading, and I went into every class this week feeling prepared... unfortunately I later realised I wasn't prepared enough, when we had to do a task involving restructuring the arguments of a philosophical paper written by the guy who taught me last semester, and I spent the entire hour completely dumbstruck and unable to understand a word. Philosophy is hard! As much as I love metaphysics, it really messes with your mind. This week has taught me that I really need to do my set reading earlier in the week and spend the night before rereading it and familiarising myself with the arguments and points within, rather than reading it for the first time the preceding night. This week has also taught me that I really need to be working on my dissertation... I had a pipe dream last semester that I'd have half of it down by my next supervision meeting. I've done NONE of it (besides a lengthy library session earlier this week where I read one of my supporting texts and collected useful quotes), and my meeting is at 10 on Monday morning. Eek! Looks like I'll be spending a lot more time in the library...

On the bright side, I've made a hell of a lot of progress towards my exercise goals. I decided against parkrunning on Saturday as a metric fuckton of snow fell earlier in the week and by the weekend it had reached the icy stage. Turns out I made a good decision, as overnight on Friday about another foot fell and I ended up kind of stranded at The Lad's house. However, it's not all bad news! This week, ladies and gents, I managed to run 5km on the treadmill for the first time ever, in just over half an hour. I'm absolutely over the moon, I wasn't sure if I was capable but seemingly I am! So far I've found that I actually find it easier towards the end of the run - I get a sort of adrenalin rush and get really into it. My ankles absolutely cane now though - if anybody has any recommendations regarding running shoes, please let me know, because my shabby old trainers are definitely not the best footwear for running, especially considering I need to start taking it outside now. I have very, very weak ankles and my arches are collapsing where they rock in, so trainers with a built-in instep would be ideal. Lifting's taken a backseat this week as building up my stamina on the treadmill has kind of taken priority, but I can do 20 reps on 15kg now, so I might try to take it up to 20kg next week,

Continuing on the exercise theme, The Lad and I took a trip yesterday to view a bike we found advertised on Gumtree, and I'm pleased to say I am now the proud owner of a swanky bicycle, courtesy of my lovely boyfriend! Now I just need to learn how to ride it... the seller was rather adamant I tried it out, which was not particularly easy given the slush, accompanied by the fact that I'm a shit cyclist. The Lad ended up having to hold on to the back of the bike, which made me feel about 3. I can't abide being watched when I'm attempting something I'm not very good at, so that wasn't exactly my finest hour... once the snow's melted, I'll be taking it to the park round the corner where there are no parked cars for me to crash into and lots of grass to cushion my (most likely numerous) falls. I'll put up photos of it when I've sorted out my camera - must get that sorted!

As for the rest of my goals, I'm not doing particularly well. I haven't read any of my book in ages, I haven't listened to my Russian (I got quite disheartened when my shocking memory caused me to forget a rather significant amount of new vocabulary as I was going along), and I doubt the NHS want my blood at the moment, as it's pretty much pure alcohol. Buying a bottle of tequila for last night's party was definitely not one of my better ideas - I woke up at half nine this morning in my bed, with no recollection of how I got there. Apparently The Lad put me there after finding me passed out in the hall. So I missed most of my own birthday party. Wonderful. My head is pounding, I probably reek of sick and I still have to tidy up the front room, which is utter carnage. The mere sight of alcohol makes me dry heave at the moment, so I might delay the clean-up operation until I've had a shower and feel slightly more human. Any notions of doing dissertation work ahead of tomorrow's meeting have fallen flat, I think anything I write will be gobbledegook at this stage. I'm going to shamefacedly return to the foetal position I assumed earlier, fester a bit, and then attempt to put my house back in one piece, before writing to my grandparents, who would thoroughly disapprove of my appalling behaviour. Learn from my mistakes, dear readers, and don't drink tequila until you pass out. Especially when you're the host.

Some blogger!

So evidently I’m not doing so well at this whole keeping a regular blog thing… in my defence, I’ve been bogged down in some particularly foul essays which I stupidly left to the last minute (with the benefit of hindsight, maybe stopping procrastinating should have been one of my 21 goals), and a very shoddy Internet connection… okay, okay, they’re not the best excuses in the world. I suck. I’m sorry.

Luckily, I’ve not been so useless with my remaining 20 goals. I’m getting back into my gym routine this week after being snowed under with coursework this week – weirdly enough, I’d actually missed getting all sweaty and feeling like my lungs have collapsed! Pole was cancelled this week and weights have sort of taken a back seat lately, but I’m making good headway on this running malarkey, having managed to run about 3.3k in 20 minutes in the gym yesterday. Considering I generally don’t run as a rule, I’m pretty damn pleased with myself. However, that’s just on a treadmill, and actually running outside is going to be considerably trickier. I had a little practice when I was at home, but I need to do more, so I’ve registered with parkrun (http://www.parkrun.org.uk/), who organise weekly 5k runs (I think normally at 9am Saturday mornings – hell’s bells!) nationwide. I’m planning on going to the event on the 26^th at Temple Newsam, a stately home with lovely grounds not too far from me. However, they also run events at the park which is literally next to my flat, so I may do that one instead in future, seeing as I can afford to roll out of bed about half an hour before it starts that way! It’ll be a great opportunity to get some practice actually running a 5k course (I don’t have a pedometer at the moment – must invest!) with a group of people who will hopefully act as motivation for me to up my game. I’m not too bothered about the speed, but I do want to keep going for the whole course and not have to walk sections. The 26^th isn’t far away now, so I’ll be posting about how that goes when the time comes.

The goal I’m aiming to cross off the list will probably be giving blood. I’ve rung the centre and they apparently release appointments on the day, so I will have to pick a day when I’m up early and not hungover (there aren’t too many of those… not because I’m an alcoholic, but because I’m lazy) to book myself in and head on down there. I’m sort of looking forward to it, although after a friend described himself after his first donation as “fucked up” (thanks for that, “friend”!), I’m more than a little apprehensive. Still, my former housemate and I are planning to go together for moral support.

When I first announced this project of mine, I was lucky enough to have a great support network of friends and family around me who were positively brimming with information, tips and offers of help, for which I am incredibly grateful. One person who’s been particularly supportive is none other than my lovely boyfriend (who will henceforth be known as ‘The Lad’ – it’s easier to type). Since returning back up North from my home down South, after a long break from seeing each other, The Lad has presented me with a couple of little gifts as part of my birthday present to aid me on my way towards achieving these goals of mine, plus there is talk of us scouring Gumtree together in order to find a cheapo bike I can practice on… seeing as I’ve been known in the past to crash when attempting to cycle, I don’t want to wreck a brand spanking new one. The gifts he has presented me with thusfar are a USB memory stick with Learn Russian mp3s on there, and a little packet of chili pepper seeds! I never used to be a big fan of chili, but I love it now, so it’s an excuse to get cooking – not that I ever need one, I love cooking! Anybody got any bright ideas for meal ideas?

In addition to USB sticks and chili pepper seeds, I’ve also, courtesy of my lovely friends and family, acquired several books – some of which I picked out, and others which are a total surprise. I already have about a third of my 21 books now! First on the list is Ghost Light by Joseph O’Connor, which is actually a book I bought for myself, but some of the ones I was bought are intimidatingly long after such a long time without reading for my own enjoyment, so I figured I’d ease myself in slowly. I’ll be reviewing everything I read, so keep your eyes peeled for those.

Overall, I’d say I’m making fairly good progress this early in the year! However, my nails are a mess, I haven’t bought a single newspaper and at least one of the essays I just wrote is so shit that this degree may be slipping away from me… must try harder! In the meantime, I’m going to stick some Russian on and immerse myself. Dos svidanya!

P.S. I do actually plan to start including some photos in this blog at some point, but unfortunately my camera has given up the ghost, boo hiss. Once I have a functioning one, I'll start making this thing a bit more exciting.

Happy Birthday to me!

Welcome one and all, to my shiny new blog! I've flirted with blogging before, experimented at length, but unfortunately I'm a terrible procrastinator and eventually the length between posts just gets so bloody embarrassing that I give up altogether, and my blog becomes buried in the depths of the vast Internet. I'm determined that this year will be different.

So, quickly, a bit about me. I'm Kate, I'm a student oop North, and I am 21 today. It's supposedly a grand occasion, and people have been continually asking me what I want to do, what I would like by way of gifts, and so on. I'm quite fortunate in that I have a very generous family, so I'm not really wanting for anything, plus my birthday comes so soon after Christmas that I've already been showered with presents. However, there are plenty of goals I've been meaning to achieve, but have never got round to making any headway towards: targets that I've wanted to meet, but fallen short of. Now that I am, as of today, a proper adult, I figure it's about time that I got off my arse and did something about it. And given that my birthday is so close to New Year, I could do with making a few resolutions. So here it is, my birthday present to me: a list of 21 goals that I plans to have achieved by the time I turn 22. Some of them are big things, some of them are little things, and some of them are just about being a better person. I'll list them here, along with a brief explanation as to why I chose each one:

1.) Learn Russian.
My degree is actually BA Philosophy and Russian Civilisation. I'm one of only about 2 people on my course who don't speak a single word of Russian, and it can be a disadvantage on occasion. I've been meaning to learn Russian since last year, and was even given a set of Learn Russian CDs by a friend, but somehow never got round to it, not least because I no longer have a disc drive on my laptop. My boyfriend has managed to download some MP3s which help you to learn the language, so no more excuses! 
2.) Complete at least one 5k race.
Back in February 2011 I decided I was sick and tired of being the big girl, so I started a new exercise regime. I go to the gym around 4-5 times a week, plus I pole dance on Mondays, but one thing I've never got the hang of is running, much as I've always wanted to. My dad used to do a 10k every summer, and I've had friends who've done the London Marathon. I'm not quite sure I'd ever manage to run quite THAT far, but I think 5k sounds sensible. I've actually made a start on this already - I managed to run a mile in about 10 minutes yesterday, and I was over the bloody moon. If I can keep this up, maybe I'll be able to run a few races this year, but I'll be really pleased with just one.
3.) Get down to 9 stone and STAY THERE.
With a combination the fitness regime described above and a fairly strict diet, I've managed to lose about 3 stone since I started uni. However, being at home over Christmas has meant I've been rather naughty on occasion. I never want to return to the state I was in before, so this year I've resolved to maintain a stable weight. I'm only 5'3", so 9 stone is a good, healthy weight for me.
4.) Learn to ride a bike.
When they said you never forget how to ride a bike, they lied. I have to re-learn every 5-6 years. This time around, I want to remember! Hopefully I'll be able to find a cheap second-hand bike on Gumtree so I can practice regularly.
5.) Be able to lift half my body weight (around 30kg).
I need to build up my upper body strength in order to achieve the goal below, so I'll be doing weights in the gym. I've just about managed to lift 20kg before, but it's bloody hard, so I'll have to build myself up slowly but surely.
6.) Climb to the top of the pole at my pole dancing class.
I started pole dancing around March time last year. It took me about six months to learn how to get upside down, but climbing still evades me - I just end up with multiple bruises and friction burns! The pole's about 11ft, and I've managed to climb a little bit of it, but I always get stuck partway up. Whether that a mental block or a lack of physical strength I don't know, but either way I WILL touch that ceiling, come hell or high water!
7.) Get a high 2:1/first class degree.
I graduate in the summer, so I've got one semester left to really knuckle down and achieve this. I'm on track so far for a good 2:1, but I've left my work really late this Christmas holiday. Here's hoping I can pull it out the bag.
8.) Get a job.
Once I've graduated, I need a job! I've applied for one or two internships and I'm just waiting to hear back on those. Even if it's just admin, it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.
9.) Rent my own property.
And if I've got a job, I can pay rent. No more sponging off my parents!
10.) Learn to drive.
It's four years today since I've been able to legally drive. I've always been too scared to even try because, as much as it shames me to admit this, I still struggle to tell my left from right, and I'm so uncoordinated on the ground, I'm not sure that adding a car into the equation is the best idea. Nevertheless, being able to drive would make life a hell of a lot easier for me (not to mention my mother!), so on the list it goes.
11.) Raise £1000 for charity.
For the past five Christmases I've volunteered at one of the homeless shelters Crisis opens up over that period - it's actually the thank you party for the volunteers tonight, which saves me organising anything for myself! Generally speaking, I think it's more beneficial to donate time than money, but my dad's done a lot of charity work himself and has raised thousands. Any funds I raise will go to Crisis, as I have personal experience of the work they do, and I know just how the money would benefit them.
12.) Give blood at least once.
I've been a bit selfish about donating in the past - I'm pathetic about pain - but this year, I need to change that. 
13.) Write to my paternal grandparents once a month.
I've written to my dad's parents a couple of times, and even sent a parcel once, and seeing how happy that makes them, I defiinitely need to do it more often. My mum's parents I see more regularly and occasionally talk to on the phone or email, so writing to them isn't such a big thing, but my paternal grandmother is essentially bedridden and they don't have a computer. Letter writing is their main form of contact, so I need to do it more regularly.
14.) Grow something.
This is a random one I found on the Internet when I was looking for ideas when my creativity failed me, but I think it's a good one! I'd like to maybe try growing chili peppers.
15.) Get a new piercing.
I love piercings, and when I was a bit younger I kept sneaking off to get them done without telling my parents... who always eventually found out. I've only got them in my ears at the moment, but I'd like to get something a bit more, well, exotic. I'm thinking of getting a triple navel piercing; however, this might have to wait until after I've given blood, since you can't give blood for 4 months after a piercing.
16.) Stop biting my nails.
I actually managed this for a couple of months, but I've failed -my nails, whilst not exactly bitten, are short and stubby. I've found that for me, the key is keeping them painted, as being a vain cow, I'm reluctant to chip the polish!
17.) Visit all 4 countries of the UK.
This idea actually came from a book by Freya North called Chloe, where a young woman is sent on a quest of self-discovery in her godmother's will, and must spend each season in a different country of the UK. I went to Scotland once when I was about 11, I've always wanted to see Ireland and I've never been to Wales. Although I'm based in England, there's plenty of it I haven't seen or would like to revisit.
18.) Go abroad.
While the above goal would in itself consist of several little holidays, I haven't been abroad in a few years now. Now that I've finally renewed my passport, there's nothing stopping me - I had to turn down a couple of holidays last year due to endlessly delaying my passport application!
19.) Read 21 books.
I never read for pleasure any more, and it's something I've really missed, so I need to make time for it this year. Today alone I've received three new books - I'll be reviewing them on here as I finish each one.
20.) Subscribe to/regularly buy a newspaper, and actually read it.
I'm ashamed to admit that I spend far too much time on the Daily Mail website, and that's where most of my news comes from, biased and ill-informed as it undoubtedly may be. Despite reading it, I remain woefully ignorant when it comes to world affairs, leaving me at a disadvantage when I try to argue with my Communist boyfriend (who regularly bemoans the fact that I peruse the Mail's site). Here's hoping I'll eventually be able to win some more of our (numerous) "discussions" (aka arguments!).
21.) Keep a regular blog.
Last, but certainly not least, I've always wanted to blog properly, but I never really had anything much to write about. With the start of this challenge, I now do! I'll be posting progress updates on here on a regular basis, so keep your eyes peeled!

So there you have it: my 21 goals, with 365 days in which to complete them. I'd better get cracking! But first, it's time to celebrate... I may be an adult now, but you're never too old for a party!