Snow!!!!

Isn't it lovely! I bloody love the snow, it makes everything look like a Christmas card.

When I moved here and was packing away all my belongings in my new bedroom, my flatmate noticed a very large, very puffy black coat with a very furry hood hung up in my wardrobe. "You're going to need that for an Edinburgh winter" she commented, and since that moment I have been eagerly awaiting the arrival of the spectacular winter I had been promised.

And this week, it arrived. With a vengeance.

Uni has been been cancelled all week, the campus being "closed until further notice": four words which bring out the 7-year old in any adult. I spent three days in my flat watching people make igloos and frolic in the lovely snow, giddy with the novelty of snowman-making, while I was quietly smug with my steaming mugs of tea and cosy livingroom. Then suddenly, reality struck; I had run out of food. So off I toddled to Tesco, wrapped up in several scarves and two pairs of socks with some 'sensible' footwear (well, as sensible as I would allow; my eyes skimmed past the flat boots and trainers, and settled on a pair of knee-high brown leather boots. They did have a heel but they were from Clarks, so a 'sensible' heel lol).

Dear lord, I had underestimated God's sense of humour. There were snowdrifts along the edge of the street which were waist-high, the path was easily half a metre higher than usual from all the compacted snow, and I genuinely couldn't tell where the footpaths ended and the roads began. And this was in the city! Of course, my first natural reaction was not to run screaming back into the safety of my flat, but instead to scrabble for my phone and make several phone calls home to brag about the glorious weather conditions. Understandably, my lovely friends and family were exceedingly jealous with their measly 2 inches of snowfall. And especially for them, here are a little video of the view from my living-room window, just to rub more snow salt in their wounds.

Fabulous. I'm off to make a hot whisky and watch Elf, happy snowballing (or not)!

There's no place like home

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore, Toto."

My Big Move has gone rather swimmingly so far. My flat is dinky but very cute, and I have a lovely flatmate who shares my love for carbohydrates and special-offer wine. The city is beautiful, especially now winter is properly kicking in, and every time I walk out my front door I see something else new that makes me smile. And my masters degree course, my raison d'etre (!) has so far proven to be highly enjoyable, with the unexpected bonus of being in a group of genuinely nice, fun people.

The only blip is my failure in finding employment; apparently, my 10+ years of various part-time jobs aren't up to high standards this city expects from potential employees. Having applied for countless positions in all areas of employment, I have so far had only one interview, and didn't get the position due to my inflexibility to working Christmas Eve and Boxing Day. When 'home' is in a different country, it's not so easy to work these festive shifts if you want to have anything resembling a Christmas...

Being unemployed sucks, but I have come to realise that it's not the lack of vodka money that bothers me the most. It's the unsettling feeling of 'not belonging here'; if I'm not working, it's like I'm not really part of the city, the daily grind, the bustle, the hundreds of faces you see every day in cafes, supermarkets, Topshop, driving the buses I ride home from uni. And because I'm not contributing, not doing my fair share of the slog, I don't really feel like I'm properly one of 'them'. But I don't live in the same country as my family and friends anymore, so I'm not really one of 'them', either. When I'm home, everyone's on their best behaviour; the nights out with my friends don't have the same carefree, go-with-the-flow essence that I always loved so much, largely due to the fact that these nights out require regimented planning to ensure everyone's schedules are cleared. I am in a no man's land, stuck somewhere in the middle of the Belfast-Stranraer ferry line, not quite at home but not quite Scottish yet either.

But I have two options: I can either choose to wallow in a sea of self-pity, moaning about being lonely and broke and just being a general misery. Or I can suck it up, realise how very lucky I am to have this opportunity; to have the fantastic family I have with their never-ending support, my lovely mum who (god love her) always lets me whinge and moan and then finds a way to cheer me up, usually by letting me talk to the dog down the phone. Or my dad, who's main concern is making sure I always have a few quid to buy medicinal wine, heaven forbid I don't drink my feelings, I am beginning to suspect the shame of being Northern Irish and having a sober daughter would be too much. Thankfully, there is no danger of that happening anytime soon.

Procrastinate: "to postpone or delay needlessly"

I have very recently relocated to a sparkly new city to start a masters degree. Unless you're a personal friend of mine, don't feel bad for not knowing this before now; nobody expects you to.

Unless of course you are a stalker or have an inexplicable psychic link with me. But I would be highly surprised if either of those options were the case; I'm not anywhere near interesting enough to merit a stalker, and the likelihood of someone having a psychic connection with a person they had never met is minimal. Wouldn't that be utterly pointless though...

"Someone, somewhere, just thought about eating a crumpet."

As supernatural powers go, it's a pretty rubbish one.

Anyhoo, I am only a few weeks into the course, and so far have found it very difficult to focus on the various tasks I'm issued with on a weekly basis. For example, right now I should be frantically working on a presentation that is due tomorrow, yet here I am, writing an entry about how I should really be focusing more on my work.

I have just spent more time working out the logistics of an anonymous psychic connection than I have on any of my homework due in tomorrow morning, and I can only get into one side of my bed due to the large quantity of various cosmetics, scarves and clothing that has been awaiting put-away for days now. Why, oh why do I do this to myself?

I'll share a secret with you. I procrastinate because it's fun.

Any activity I partake in is twice as rewarding when I'm really meant to be doing something else much less interesting.
Add this to the delicious anticipation of the adrenaline that hits when I subsequently run out of time to complete said task.
And nothing quite beats the imaginary pat on the back I give myself when I manage to pull something out of the bag at the last minute, ah the sweet smugness of the 'skin-of-your-teeth' victory.

Procrastination rules. Just remember that next time someone chastises you for your 'poor time management', chances are they're just jealous they didn't think of it first.

Hello.

So here we are.

I'm not going to lie to you; I don't have a bloody clue what I'm doing.

Being a somewhat impulsive person, I tend to have eureka moments on a weekly basis. This week, I have decided that the next obvious stage to my personal development should be based upon the launching of a blog. As much as I would like to be able to provide some kind of rational explaination as to how I reached this decision, I cannot; I find I am a generally happier person if I don't question my own choices too much. This is largely due to an unsettling gut instinct that with too much probing, I will unwittingly unleash some dark Pandora's box-type evil upon the world. So if we just go with it, everyone's happy. Trust me, I know about these things.

I have always had mixed emotions as to the whole 'blog' thing. Part of me is quietly impressed at the level of commitment and dedication that many bloggers put towards their venture. However, I am more swayed by the desire to inwardly snigger to myself at the sheer egotism of the practice; blogs seem so self-indulgent, don't they? Yes, of course they are. That's why I WANT ONE.

So give me a chance; check in from time to time. Perhaps with a Twix and a lukewarm glass of supermarket red. A recent survey showed that 8 out of 10 cats actually preferred the taste of my Musings when compared to their regular catfood, so I'm fairly confident you won't regret it. And if not, they come with a full money-back guarantee.

Maybe.