Rolling in the deep...

... of a planning frenzy.

Currently, life is dull. I have some Anglo-Saxonist creative writing to be getting on with; I am spending most of this week alone in my parents' house; and the University term restarts next Monday with more work to do - ugh.

Nevertheless, my mind is brimming with ideas and plans for so many future events that I can't help but be excited! The reality of planning a wedding has set in today, after I made some appointments to visit some local venues. I'm not just going to pop in and have a nosy at the grounds, I am actually going to TALK to the scarily titled 'wedding co-ordinators' and be given official tours of houses and grounds. Eeeeek! It has all become so real. And I can be excited now because Dad seems to have come around to the idea that we want our marriage to take place next year. Even more eeeeek!

We did some last-minute investigating at a few places on the weekend which was pleasing to me and Mum, but Dad was not enthusiastic at all. He wavered between deliberately aloof or stubbornly antagonistic. If one of us mentioned 'next year' he would mutter 'or the year after...' It was so irritating: if you have a problem, communicate it maturely and in a way that allows everyone else the chance to understand things from your perspective, don't just mumble and groan like a child. Argh! My Mum and I were becoming incredibly frustrated.

Anyway, he went away on Sunday night for work and when he returned on Monday evening he was much more enthusiastic and chipper about the whole situation. He encouraged me to contact venues and caterers and start booking appointments to visit possible locations - something that he would not have dreamed of doing at the weekend. I guess he just needed time to himself to reflect and come to terms with the fact that his little girl is all grown up! And my engagement is not a vague hint at something more, it is the beginning of a long, probably arduous process of planning, booking and paying for a wedding. An actual wedding.

Other thoughts that are swimming around my head concern less exciting, but just as important things. The big D (dare I say the full word?), aka the dissertation, is coming up fast and I have NO idea what to write about. I'm not even sure which period of literature I want to focus on, let alone which writers or topics to research. When I breathe and think about it rationally I know that I have plenty of time to decide on all of these things. But, that doesn't alleviate the worrying that is beginning to set in. And considering how quickly this year is passing me by, I'm sure "D-Day" is preparing to leap up and bite me on the ass sooner than I'd like.

Finally, I was supposed to use this break from classes to make a substantial start on my creative writing portfolio for my Old English module. Yesterday I finally had an idea for an Anglo-Saxonist short story, inspired by the speaker of an Old English poem, but today I have no motivation to take it any further. Avoiding the academic guilt that is so close to destroying my positive mood, I am being productive in other areas. Updating blogs, booking venue viewings, and other internet-based research that I should be doing for various non-academic (and therefore non coma-inducing) purposes. I may even do some ironing for Mama Sidhu. Maybe...

Now that you are also rolling amidst the depths of my excitement and/or sleep-depriving stress, I can end this here blog entry.

Stay safe. Peace.

(Almost) Quarter-Life Crisis.

Being cooped up in someone else's flat, in a strange city does wonders for the brain's thinking power. It is not so good, however, when your mind decides to turn its full attention on that dreaded 'F' word, the FUTURE.

I am happily engaged so no doubts there at all. In fact, I am loving the conversations about venues, budgets and cakes! It becomes a little daunting at times- there are so many details to pick and choose, it's all a bit intimidating, but still super exciting.

Like most penultimate year students I know, I am beginning to think about what I am going to do when my time at University is over- this is terrifying. Don't get me wrong, I am unbelievably ready to finish my degree! I enjoy it, but I need to escape the small town in which I have ended up, and I cannot wait to get married and start my real life.

Nevertheless, deciding to move to Manchester (at least while JC qualifies as an Actuary) has thrown my career plan right off course. Day-to-day this does not bother me. I relish the prospect of a life that isn't already set in stone. However, I spent the other day scouring the internet for possible work in Manchester. I looked for the kinds of jobs I would be interested in applying for, and for employment that I hadn't though of before, but I would be qualified to do. To my pleasant surprise I found quite a lot of media-based jobs that I could try and get into right here in Manchester. The city is a thriving, bustling place, and much cheaper and friendlier than London (in my opinion) so these future job prospects got me excited!

However, I made the mistake of continuing my search the next day and alas, NO WORK. NOTHING. NADA. I couldn't find anything that I would be able to apply for and this freaked me out. Anything I did find was freelance writing or odd jobs for new blogs/websites. I would be happy doing all of that, for the experience. But a lot of it is unpaid and/or temporary. No guaranteed work or salary. I was expecting this considering I want to work in such a competitive field and as yet I don't have an awful amount of experience. However, the reality struck me like a bat out of hell and I was in shock.

This put me in a quiet and contemplative mood for the rest of the day. I hate it when I'm not cheerful. I pride myself on being chirpy and smiling all the time, especially when I am with JC and trying to motivate him to study for exams. So I was stuck in a vicious cycle. Scared - Grumpy - Annoyed at my grumpiness - Grumpy - Scared. The boy tried to help, but when I am in that mood there is no getting me out of it. I was wallowing in self-doubt and self-pity, my self-confidence was totally shot to pieces, and I didn't want to be cuddled out of it. After dinner, some chatting, and some reading I did magically feel better. He reminded me why I am so willing to marry him and move to Manchester: he is amazing. He is worth any trouble I may have trying to find work and money, and more than that, he will support me emotionally and financially through any future difficulties.

So, my temporary fears quashed by the lovely man on my arm, I did another job search. Et voilà, I found some viable possibilities! It was a whirlwind couple of days on the employment front, but at the end of it I realised that I am still young. I have so much time to establish myself in the career that I want, and to find what on earth that is... In the meantime, I have a degree to attain, a wedding to plan, and lots of weight to lose! I also gots myself lotsa lovin' to do :)

Oh Em Gee, where has the time gone?

I'm alive!

To bring you up to speed... the meeting of les parents went swimmingly. And in stages. Dad decided to swan off to India for a weekend so missed JC the first time he came to visit. But that worked out rather nicely as my mum got a chance to bond with the boy. They got on like bacon and eggs :) And they talked about food and cooking for a whole weekend. My mum fell for him as much as I did when I first met him, which just made the relationship taste a whole lot sweeter.

Last minute planning and JC visited the following weekend too. He met Dad. Du-du-duh! We drank a fair amount of wine and tortured JC (and ourselves) with two 3 hour long, heart-wrenching, epic Bollywood films. It was a cosy weekend, all in all. Dad and JC were both too nervous to really bond, but I see the beginning of great things. They are both incredibly kind people, and they are both nerdy so it is inevitable that they will be BFFs in the end.

WE GOT ENGAGED. He proposed to me in a cocktail bar. Rather suited our alcoholic tendencies... Well, we are cocktail addicts more than anything else. It has been a highly emotional time. Mostly happiness and excitement, but not without its worries. Mainly family-related (standard), but my parents have been the most amazingly supportive people on the entire planet. And, as I keep saying to every new family member that calls me up, as long as they are happy for me and are willing to continue being a part of my life then that is all I need. Some of my so-called family will not talk to me ever again, but I couldn't give a rat's ass (or its tail). If they can't love me for who I am, regardless of who I have chosen to marry, then they can kiss my tush. Ain't nobody needs haters in their life.

Phew, that was a crazy few months of boy news!

Other areas of my life have also been rather productive. That has been my mood lately, actually. Very productive. I spent the inter-semester break in work experience at Penguin Books. It was incredible to be involved with such high-profile publishing, but it also confused me as to what I want to do when I leave University. I'm still set on the world of publishing, just not sure what area. Publicity (which was the department I worked in) was a joy, but I'm not sure I'm 'scene' enough for it. I'm not really interested in the cafe of the minute, or the place to lunch of the month... I just want to read books. The experience also made me consider not working in London, in fact it put me off it. Too much pretension in that city, by God. Don't get me wrong, it is thriving and exhilarating for a time, I just can't see myself working there for the rest of my life. This has made me more determined to find work in Manchester and live with my future husband in his home town. It has made me less determined to work in fiction publishing. I reckon I'd quite enjoy the educational side of things. I do love the classics and translations and Shakespeare.

What else?

I have been working my ass off, academically. My exam results from first semester were fine. But just fine. And if I want to secure my 2:1, I need to do better. So I have read all the texts and done as many of the Old English translations that I possibly can. I proof read both of my essays that are due in tomorrow morning (actually, in 9 hours, I can't sleep) and I have been doing as much background reading as I have time for. Add to this new-found studiousness, my shifts at the bar and occasional trips to Manchester and you've got yourself one busy, non-blogging girl. Excuses, excuses...

In conclusion:
- parents and JC = success!
- work experience = fun, but tiring times.
- career prospects = ... in progress.
- academic work = getting done. not sure how well though. let you know when I get these essays back...
- bar work = fun, but tiring. and not fun when people are RUDE.
- Manchester = found a nook in my heart in which to nestle.
- blogging = maybe this is a new beginning?
- art of rambling = I still got it.

Hope you are all snuggly and warm.
Peace out.

Xxx

Meeting THE parents

Eeeeek! This weekend is going to be an important one. The boy is coming to stay and meet my Mum and brother (Dad will be away) for the first time. He doesn't know this yet (but he will once he has read this), but I am getting super nervous... He is lovely and I'm sure my Mum will approve of him, but I feel more anxious about this visit than when I met his parents. That can't be right.

As making good first impressions goes, meeting the other half's parents must be the most pressured environment in which to introduce yourself. And it doesn't make it any easier when your family didn't approve of you having a boyfriend in the first place. Argh!

I know that I shouldn't expect us to become a model family in one weekend, but I can't help wishing that it all goes perfectly. Smiles, laughs, good times - all that Hallmark jazz. Essentially, I want us to be an advert for happy families! TOO MUCH PRESSURE. And it is all my own fault. I need to put this into perspective...

I want to marry this guy so there will be plenty of time for him to get to know my family. But I want them to like him and approve a marriage before the whole thing takes place. Vicious circle of nerves and wants and needs. And needless worrying. Do I really need to care if he doesn't automatically click with my Mum? She can be quite shy and guarded with new people so I shouldn't be surprised or worried. Besides, I know they will get on once they both put the nerves aside and are able to enjoy each other's company (she is worrying, too). I'm just not sure how long that will take. HURRY UP GUYS. Please?

All in all, I think there is too much social pressure on this single event. Films like Meet the Parents do not help either. Funny, but not reassuring. Will I be able to enjoy seeing him after three weeks or will I be preoccupied from the merriment by that idiot girl in my brain lying in wait for disaster?

Eeeeeeeeeeeek! Breathe. Phew. 

Soap Operas >dramatic pause< Gasp!

The soap opera: one genre of television programme to which I am not totally addicted. Well, that’s not entirely true. I do watch Hollyoaks (yes, the worst soap) every night, but that is more of a flat bonding exercise than an overwhelming addiction. Also, it is a soap that has such ludicrous storylines and such implausible characters that it makes you laugh rather than cry.

And that is my issue with more mainstream British soaps (Eastenders, Coronation Street, etc.). They are so inescapably depressing – I just cannot even begin to understand how someone can sit through all of that misery day in, day out, without going completely bonkers. For me, television is an escape from reality; I don’t want to be thrust into its infinitely drearier version!

Perhaps the main attraction to soaps can be explained by the TV phenomenon that henceforth will be known as: The Jeremy Kyle Principal. The main appeal of the soap opera (as well as the Jeremy Kyle show) is that regardless of any problem that you may have in life, you can count on the life of your favourite character being far more dismal. People always say, “you never know how good you’ve got it.” Well, you soon perk up about life once you tune in to the latest melodramatic tragedy that has bred havoc and devastation on the streets of the soaps.

Soaps can throw up some gripping storylines on occasion, but they often make the mistake of drawing plots out until the audience reach the point of desperate disinterest. There have been many times when I have shouted at the TV in an oddly apathetic rage “just tell him about the affair, you stupid woman!” Soaps can be enthralling, but they can quickly become frustratingly dull and monotonous. 

This is not helped when the writers are just as bored as we are, and the actors were hired because they know the producer’s husband’s nephew. I will not deny that there is some fantastic talent in the British soap industry (writers and actors), but unfortunately the genre is currently saturated with mediocre to subpar talent.

Just as I hope for at least one happy ending in my soap of choice, I do hope for a soap opera saviour to land and save us all from the sad state of British soaps. Why can’t our soaps be more like Latin American ones? With characters named after rival countries insulting each other, missing dogs names after wayward Presidents, and international law suits (see http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-latin-america-12198502)!

Long Distance Relationships

Three words that no one in a relationship wants to hear in the same sentence. They are the eerie calm before the storm, the raging fire before the smoke, the beginning of the end. They are my life. My name is Tanita... And I am in a long distance relationship (cue applause).

After only seven and a half months in the same town (as a couple), my boyfriend graduated and left me at University with a further two years on the clock. He lives around 300 miles away and leads a busy life as a trainee actuary. I have commitments in my small town to my degree and my part-time job. It has been almost eight months since we have been so far apart, but we are still going strong. How in the hell? Right?

I am not going to deny that the long distance thing has its challenges. Everyday that I am not able to hug him, hold his hand, or stroke his hair is a day that I resent. And the moments that we can catch together are always bittersweet. Regardless of how much I try to relish the time that we have in the same city, those words are always in the back of my mind – long distance relationship – taunting me with their unyielding power. We can have all of the fun in the world but at the end of it one of us has to leave. And no one can veil the sadness that comes with leaving the person you love alone on a train station platform… Every 2 to 3 weeks.

Me and my beau <3

But we go through all of that heartache because we love each other. There is a future here and we are not going to let three measly words jeopardise that. No one has ever made me feel so safe and loved within the same room, let alone from 300 miles away! Why would I let him go without a fight? And it is a fight. But we both put the effort in, and that is what counts: phone calls everyday, Skype video chats when it’s convenient, and even the odd handwritten letters. It is such a cliché, but communication really is the key. Just because you aren’t in the same town, doesn’t mean the rules change.

Agreeing to be in a long distance relationship is probably the dating world’s number one faux pas, and many (including myself, 8 months ago) would have you believe that it could never work out. After all, cynicism is the easy way out of an unavoidably arduous and heartbreaking situation. Love, though, is the easy way in.

I am in a long distance relationship with the love of my life and I wouldn’t change it for the world.