It's the end of the world as we know it.

I first discovered the world was ending during my year 9 physics class.

Our then teacher, My Syrda - a man who once told my mother during parents evening that my knowledge of the male reproductive system was very below par (before any strange connotations along the lines of indecent student teacher relations are brought into question here, I feel it best to clarify he was our then sex ed tutor - lucky me), a man who kept an air rifle in a cupboard behind his desk which he brought out with relish upon some poor unsuspecting year 7 who hadn't completed a homework task to a sufficiently high standard - he informed the class at the end of lesson that at 12:35 a giant meteorite would, very unfortunately, be crashing into the pacific ocean, wiping out humanity. 

Now as a rational 13 year old I realised I was in a predicament. Did I continue to Mrs Bradwell's food technology class, in the knowledge that death would strike before lunch was over? Did I use these final hours as an anarchistic expression of the inevitable superiority complex humanity is embedded with; strip naked; run about the streets declaring 'Apocalypse nigh!'; call my mother and father, tell them I loved them; declare my feelings to my then school crush in the hope to achieve my first kiss, a pivotal moment in my youth for the first and very last time?

Safe to say as I am sitting here today and not behind the gates of a mental facility, that no, I didn't. Instead I went, begrudgingly, to Mrs Bradwell's class. Fortunately the end of the world postponed itself for that day. Oh and I managed to achieve my first kiss, teeth knocking and all, later on that year. Phew!

Needless to say Mr Syrda went on throughout my remaining school years to remind us at various points that the end of the world was always on our doorstep: usually through some nuclear accident, a cataclysmic space event, or more often than not the Russians. I'm unsure whether or not My Syrda has any up to date predictions, as I believe he was suspended from the school following an incident with the afore mentioned air rifle.

Then, just as I thought things were safe, the television seemed to want to inform me that time on earth for humanity was limited. There was an imminent disaster at Yellowstone park in America; a volcano, mega-moon, super-fantastic-hurricane, mega-wopping-faultlines and some other geographical thing somewhere under the sea, or possibly under a whole continent due to explode any day now. The television supplemented this news with horrifying CGI footage of utter devastation, hypothetical death figures, and talking heads from people wearing kooky t-shirts. I have always had a strong belief that people in kooky t-shirts would hold the key to understanding these sorts of events. I certainly wouldn't trust being left alone with them, but they do seem feverishly passionate about their causes. Take for example Thor Templar, the self titled "Lord Commander of the Earth Protectorate". He claims to have killed more than twenty aliens. (See Louis Therous weird weekends - Series 1, episode 2). He further claims that an alien super invasion will happen during our lifetimes. Now am I going to believe a man who has actually killed 20 - T-W-E-N-T-Y - aliens over whatever NASA inform me regarding extra terrestrial life and the upcoming super galactic warfare heading our way? 

However, and most frustratingly, Thor Templar and the other kooky t-shirt wearers must have got their dates mixed up, as I'm still patiently waiting for complete system shutdown.

Now, the newspapers must have realised what awful predictions the television had divulged to us mere mortals, because suddenly they were warning me about all sorts of awful things...terrorists...global warming...red wine causing cancer....chocolate causing cancer....terrorists causing cancer...cancer causing cancer....

If that wasn't enough to give you the heebie-jeebies, a machine called 'The Internet' (for detailed analysis and description see South Park, Season 12, Episode 6, Over Logging) told me the end was nigh in all manner of ways I didn't even see to think possible. I found out that there was a secret underbelly of society, a dark mysterious faction of people who know much more about the impending doom our poor world faces than anyone with a silly PHD or any other nonsense scribed in academic journals and the like. For you see these people have blogs. They have interactive forums.

Of first, I must admit, I was somewhat sceptical of these apocalyptic accounts, but soon realised that with the doomsday clock ticking, spending one's time arduously involved in thesis writing was a pointless exercise when one can set up a wordpress account in a matter of minutes.

Furthermore, no-one here will dispute the fact the internet is an entirely credible knowledge bank, the same as no-one would dare dispute that say, historical writings were nothing more than absolute factual records of totally true events. Of course there was a bloke, in fact a number of blokes a few thousand years ago that did a number of very wonderful things. Many ancient records have said so. It's not like anyone would try and convey an event in a manner as a means of propagandist scaremongering to influence people in a primitive and overtly superstitious society. If you ever find me evidence that they did, I would eat my hat. Although I wouldn't recommend the ingestion of headgear, as studies have linked such activity to cancer (see Daily Mail, vast majority of publications, for up to date list of cancer attributing activities).

Anyway, I digress. Back to the internet. Unfortunately I have found that single handed I am unable to bring you a complete record of all impending disasters and fascinating events and phenomena earth is facing through my studies. Where to start! There's Michael From Maui's Saturn earth connection, the study of Djinn Angels and Demons, the Mayan Calander and we haven't even got into the Biblical prohecies! (Details can be found at www.bible.ca/pre-date-setters.htm - unfortunately all of the 220 dates for apocalypse are outdated, but taking into account recent disasters I'm positive someone can convey a more accurate prediction).

With this vast and never ending stream of forthcoming disasters I keep uncovering, I can safely say humanity has never had it so bad. I'm sure you've been privy to the inconsequential numbers of catastrophes over the last few days, months, years and decades that have blighted humanity. All these, my friend are a sign. Of what? There's simply to many too choose from.

For example many of them do lead to a freaky correlation date wise with ancient calendar readings. If you add the co-ordinates of Mount Etna, the San Andres Fault and Pompei, divide it by 16, factor in the position of the moon, today's weather forecast and the menstrual cycles of Girls Aloud the reading is scary. Practically unbelievable. But at least it's comforting to know that as humans we are able to rationally apply patterns and provide justification of these events to a greater cause. The feats of the human mind are incredible, and I'm glad that we are masters of our own universe. Did you hear we've even manage to create flip flops to help lose weight? Incredible.

To summarise, I do apologise if I have given any of you readers cause for concern. I'm sure you now feel as confused as my poor 13 year old self; life it seems really is as vulnerable as ever. I may have triggered some form of existenialist ponderings upon the fragility of existence, the knowledge that as individuals, factions, humanity as a whole we exist nothing more as a mere moment, not even compromising specs of dust in an eternal sandstorm.

But either way, it's comforting to know that there any numerous theories and reasons to use as an emotional blanket to justify and reason what would otherwise be seen as the random and awe inspiring power and force of the Universe. I hate the thought of not being in control, thereby am thankful so many people can assure me of the certainty of events forthcoming. Even if they occassionally get it wrong.

But if you find the thought of all this doom and gloom talk too much to consider, I suggest you sit back, relax and continue as you were. All this need really be no concern. After all, who knows, today could be your last.

Sometimes, all is takes is a fancy lipbalm.

Just sometimes, when everything has gone wrong; work is dragging, lunch was a stale cheese sandwich and you just can't wait for the weekend where you can scoot off and see the Mr... sometimes, in these dire times,you've just got to say 'F**k it. I'm just going to go pay £20 for what is essentially a very nicely packaged lip balm.'

 

 Dior Lip Glow.

And you know what? I don't regret it one bit.*

*Unless I sit down and think CAT YOU STUPID BINT YOU JUST SPENT £20 ON A LIP BALM JUST BECAUSE IT LOOKS FANCY. But then again, I try not to spend too much time thinking.

Real life: Week 2, 3 and maybe 4 (aka most boring post in existence)

So as per usual, my plan to post exciting fun filled weekly updates on my life as a graduate has failed. No surprise there. I'm not sure what week of real life I'm in now, possibly 4? Either way there isn't a lot to report. Job situation still isn't great, any I've applied for (which granted, is only 2) I'm yet to hear a response from, which I'm told is a common thing in the current climate.

As of right now I'm still signing on every fortnight at the job centre, still browsing job sites daily and filling my time with watching Jeremy Kyle repeats and attempting to play piano and teach myself French. All in all it's nothing short of thoroughly depressing. I knew that it would be tough, but I never accounted for how disheartening it is being stuck without the hope of any employment in the near future.

This isn't so much for financial reasons; I still have some student loan left and JSA is enough to get by. But it's more the fact for many years throughout college and University you've been seen by your family, peers and those around you as a, well, success. Always achieving good grades, passing from levels of education with apparent ease. Then suddenly BAM, all that's behind you, you've no idea what you want, or where you want to go and there doesn't seem to be any beacon of hope in finding that elusive life plan anytime soon.

But, as everyone keeps telling me, I've got to try and stay positive. I'm not long into my job hunt and am in a much better position, both education, experience and financial wise than many others, which I know I don't appreciate half as much as I should.

And anyway, how knows what next week could bring?

Philip Kingsley Elasticizer...an end to my penchant for expensive haircare?

Hands up if you're a hair care snob? *Waves hands in the air frantically*. So imagine my delight in finding another high end product, the Philip Kingsley Elasticizer 'intensive super-moisturizing treatment' hair mask, to spend my wonga on. According to the blurb it:

"Adds elasticity, manageability, bounce and shine"

Now I have no idea what 'elasticity' is, but heck, I want it. I want Chery Cole-esque full, shiny wavy locks. I want my hair to be so full of life and lustre people stop me in the street to worship and adore my beautiful mane. I want it so much I'll risk spending £25 (yes, £25 smackers) on 150ml of product. Oh and at that price you also get a sexy shower cap included. And who said I didn't have an eye for a bargain?

Now for £25 I was expecting miracles, and what did I get? Well, nice soft hair and a nice shower cap, but not a lot else. Oh no, there was one other thing; a burning hole in my pocket. Now don't get me wrong, I won't swap my kerastase shampoo and conditioner for pantene any time some, but when it comes to hair masks and the like, I think my penchant for expense needs to be reigned in.

In my, albeit humble, opinion, hair masks are one of those slightly gimmicky things; they might look nice in your bathroom, and no doubt this stuff does, but in reality, unless you're made of dosh a boots own £5 pot of the stuff ain't gonna do much less than anything Philip Kingsley can slap a massive price tag on.

But of course of you still fancy slathering your fine locks in this but without the massive price tag, it's avaliable in sample sizes for £3.50 in Harvey Nichols, which as a pampering treat is worth the small expense, but this certainly isn't a 'holy grail' product that'll magic your hair woes away. Although considering the price tag that might surprise you...

Social network me.

As I enter week 2 of real life I realise I have very little to do to fill my days. Jobs are pretty scarce so I don't have mass amounts of applications to fill out, and there's only so much world cup watching I can take. So please, if you have a twitter account, find me - swirledpeacat - and I will follow back. I feel that over the last few months I have lost touch slightly with the beauty community; not done my upmost to find and follow new blogs, or chat to more of you lovely ladies over the tweetverse.


Finally, and yes I am aware I have rather missed the bandwagon with this one, I have set up a formspring account here. Ask me anything you please; be it about University, graduating, make-up, or life in general.

Lord knows I need something to fill my days.

Cat
xx

Happy now, Mother?

Ever since the sun first made itself known a couple of months back (and subsequently went away on holiday to the Maldives again) my mum has been frequenting the same sentence; Cat, why don't you get a summer dress, you'd look lovely in one. She then started picking dresses out of catalogues, handily leaving them poised on the kitchen table for me to see. When that tactic was to no avail she starting thrusting said magazines in my face, alongside such phrases as: 'Order now dear, it's 20% /free delivery/it'll be here in times for grandads birthday' etc, etc. When that failed to spur me to slashing out on plastic, she used her trump card; asking me to go shopping with her.

Now I love my mother, don't get me wrong, and I'm partial to a bit of shopping too but Christ the two ought never mix. The day turns into her spending 4 hours in next, whilst I turn into a 14 year old teenager, moaning 'Muuuuuuuum, I want to go home'. Luckily for me, I have my own car and still have some student loan at my disposal. So whilst mother pottered about in the garden I sneaked off, popped into new look, took advantage of the 20% off dresses offer and popped straight out again with these two lovelies.

 
* All photos taken (badly) with my iphone. I do have a camera somewhere. And a cable to charge it. As well as a memory card. However the 3 items never seem to find them self in the same place. Due to this technical issue I'm afraid you'll have to put up with my paltry, fuzzy and unedited images.

Don't they look pretty, summery, girly and floaty? I thought so. I didn't bother trying them on because dressing rooms are my #7 fear in life. Mistake. When I did eventually try them on I made an awful discovery. My mum, whilst being caring in her sentiments, was entirely wrong; I do not look 'lovely' in a summer dress, but grumpy, fat and pale.

No I'm not showing you pictures of me in them, but if you want an idea of what I look like....

You see me, I'm not much of a girly-girl. I live in jeggings, ankle boots, vest tops and shirts. I don't do heels and might remember to wear a watch let alone bother with jewellery. And so when I slip on a dress I feel a. exposed, b. frumpy and c. well, not really...me. I see women of every shape and size who look beautiful in their floaty maxi dresses, but why not me? Perhaps it's a confidence thing, to quote Sophia Loren 'Beauty is how you feel inside, and it reflects in your eyes.It is not something physical'. So maybe I need to 'feel' it, 'make it work' as Tim Gunn would say. Or maybe I should just stick to my jeggings, tank tops and shirts. After all, my mother may not be happy with my fashion choices, but y'know, I am.

And on a final note, because I can never make a decision, I want you to tell me what you make of these shoes. Another new look find for £16. I'm in two minds about them, I mean they'll go with most things, but at the same time are just a bit, meh. So tell me, should they stay or should they go?*

*Back to New look, that is.

Thank you for reading
Cat
xx

That's Miss BA with honours to you....

So Miss clever clogs here (that would be me....yes, really!) went and finished that big old degree. 3 years, a very rushed dissertation and probably more diet coke than leaked oil from BP later and I'm all done and dusted. Do I feel relieved? Kinda. Excited about the future? I suppose. Looking forward to life post-uni? Erm, I guess....

The truth is I don't quite know how to feel. More than anything I feel, well, odd. It still feels like this is my summer holiday, and I don't think it'll hit home til at least come September time that my life in education (and thus the long holidays, few timetabled hours during the week, free prescriptions plus 10% off topshop) has really ended. Even as I sit writing this I can't comprehend such a thing.

But nonetheless I have thrown myself into some kind of pseudo real life world this week. I officially ended my exams on the 3rd of June, but had a week and a half off with the Mr, plus my student card didn't end til the 11th, so I counted Monday as my first day of real life. So I thought as an easy way back into blogging, I'd note my day by day my venture into the big wide, scary world. Not because I think you'll enjoy reading it, although I applaud you if you do, but rather so in case my mum comes snooping round my blog she'll see I have actually been productive, rather than spending my time messing about on my laptop and napping.*

*These activities may have taken up a small (ish) amount of my time. But I feel I ought to be excused for this, after all, I have 3 years worth of uni habits to shed.

Real life week 1.

Day 1.

Firstly had a 4 hour drive from Essex back home after staying at the Mr's. However, tempted as I was to spend the rest of the day napping I threw myself into action, kinda. I sat on my bed while I called virgin to sort out Internet problems back at my student house in Manchester, and then spent an equally long time on the phone to the jobcentre organising setting up job seekers allowance. I then mustered up the energy to painstakingly fix up my CV, trying to describe in as many positive adjectives what my work experience as a dinner lady will bring to any further career I choose to embark on.

Day 2.

Went to Manchester to move out of said student house. Spend most of the day cleaning out my room, and 3 bags of oxfam clothes and a wheelie bin and a half of rubbish later, went out to network with uni friends. I say network, but really I went to the pub to watch the footie, but I can't help but think networking sounds far more grown up.


Day 3.

Hangover. Hangover not helped by having to repack all the stuff I packed up yesterday, as managed to pack away all toiletries and make up. Not a great start. Also 'networked' with a couple more uni friends at a pizza place in town. Oh and brought a new mascara and eyeliner, essential purchases in order to create a sophisticated interview make up look. Obviously.

Day 4.

Back in Shropshire for a jobcentre meeting at 9:40am, which apparently is a real time, something I didn't quote comprehend after 3 years of not waking up much before 12. I had never been in a jobcentre before, fish out of water doesn't begin to describe it. However they were surprisingly helpful, setting up my job seekers allowance details, as well as finding me some actual jobs to apply for.

Day 5.

Starting applying for jobs, which is likely to be the most tedious waste of time known to man. Not made any easier by a very dodgy Internet connection that likes to pewter out *just* as you're about to hit the send button and thus deletes hours of form filling. Luckily I didn't dwell on this too much, as went out to the pub to be made comatose by a mix of alcohol and the worst game of football known to man.


....And so week one comes to an end. I wish I had some wistful philosophical or sociological comment to make after my venture into the real world, but really all I have to say is that waking up at 8am is a bloody pain. Otherwise, and aside from all my moaning, life isn't going too badly at all. It's made even better by the fact that I get to see the Mr in 4 days time. Happy days.

Expect another update next weekend. Until then, wish me luck in week 2 of real life.

Cat
xx

Heeeeere's Johnny!

After a long peroid of absense, I'm about ready to get this blog back on track. Whilst I've given up fiddling with HTML and have stuck with a simple blogger template, I'm bursting with ideas and have the use of the mothers fancy camera. I'm about 3 weeks away from my final exam (can I get a eeek?) and once that's done I'll be a fully fledged philosophy graduate, expectant of a flood of employment offers landing in my mailbox every day..... Yeah right.

In the meantime expect posts as I procrastinate toward graduation.

Cat
xx