he loves me..he loves me not..he loves me...

a lot can happen in a short time.

As part of the coming up festival, boyfriend and i went to see brainwash in the underground cinema, a collection of shorts designed to inspire . This included a 10 minute clip of a girl filming herself wearing nipple tassels and long black talons to deep, clashing organ music, 2 glorious psychedelics that lost me, several other gorgeous little nuggets, and 'Daisy,' a little girl doing the 'loves me, loves me not' routine then being faced with a giant daisy rising up, getting revenge, 'loves me, loves me not'-ing as he ripped off her limbs.

As part of the same festival i then saw silent opera with my best friend. it made me cry. I don't do that, so it was a shocker. it was a beautiful show, truly stunning, where the audience was required to wear headphones, that were wired up to microphones on the singers and an electronic band. we took off our headphones and found ourselves in an entirely private performance.

I'm not a great blogger, don't have time to go into things.

Boyfriend is awesome. We spit at each other, he makes me laugh till it hurts, he carries me everywhere and he told me he loves me.

He's never told a girl that before, so another shocker. I thought I'd have to wait for a good year till I heard the words. I accidentally let it slip, covered it up well sometimes: (as he's driving) 'I love... this song, what's the time?' and not so well at other times, (on the phone, snuggled in bed) 'Good night, I love youuuuuuu...r company! i love your company!!!!'

So what do you know, I skip more than I used to and being present has never been so easy.

He's totally gorgeous and weird and wonderful. Never met anyone like him and he's the only man I feel I can't read.

Going all over the country in the next few weeks for work, nothing glamorous but I'm sure I'll make the most.

Sleep well hunkamunkas (Emma) x

Back to Black...

...Berry. It's like having my hand back. Working in Bath today, a beautiful town full of characters. I needed a blackberry charger, so popped into a generic phone shop. The boy behind the counter was about 18, and seemed quite sweet. He told me where to go should I stay the night. 'This place is well chavvy, that one plays some pretty good R'n'B, and Punana's round the corner is alright.' I asked him what constitutes as chavvy; "you know, drug dealers and slags.'As we waited for my phone to charge he directed me to the station 'just straight down past the gippo market,' then I thanked him for the hospitality; 'You're welcome. Whatever that means.'

I felt very London in Bath today. It was an accident. I'm currently in posession of a vintage leather mulberry bag (I'm told it's on loan, but I'm working on it). This, teamed with seemingly the only heels within a 10 mile radius, and a paper cupped soya chai latte did not make it hard to stick out like a sore thumb. I wore my smile though, the equivalent of wearing a t-shirt reading 'in denial.'

Going to have a nap on the train now, got to get sleep where you can.
I also don't like blackberry blogging, it makes my thumbs narky x

Had a triple shot coffee to get me through the morning. On train feeling like the kid in the nativity play that's fiddling with their tights, kneeling up, then down, taking off their halo and generally can't sit still from buzz.
So it's the end of the week and I'm low on funds. I spend over £11 a day on traons and today I just couldn't afford it. Bought a ticket to ewell west, then relied on my zone 1 to 2 to get me through at the other end.

Tickets and passes please. Buggeringbastardshitfuckbollocks.

If I do it again I'm being taken to court. Brill.

In other news, a good friend will be based in Westminster soon. We met when we were a waiter and waitress in guildford. He's astonishingly good at guitar and we've jammed a few times, looking forward to a lot more improv jazz and blues sessions.

Was working in Selfridges yesterday when I really recognized a man who worked there. I spoke to him and he told me a little about his acting work. Turns out I'd served him twice when I was said waitress.

Reading over the shoulder of the man next to me. Story in metro about a woman who put her child in the freezer every time she was naughty. That's cold.*


Had my first macaroon yesterday, passion fruit and chocolate. Felt as though I died a little but sod paying so much for a glorified wafer.

Fare evasion and coffee overdose, not a great start, but I'll be hitting my fabricfirst tonight for the brookes brothers album launch. You don't know how much I've been craving this dance.

Happy friday everyone x

*inspired by Adam Knoyle

Meet me in Hospital?

Team Meeting today with The Big Shots.

If I fell out of the London Eye, and then got half eaten by street performers, the compensation I'd recieve would still not afford me this woman's daily wardrobe.

A delivery hadn't been made, so I was late to the meeting. That horrid moment of everyone getting up so you can squeeze past. Could you not have left the space closest to the door free? I knew I'd be late when I didn't get into 3 trains in a row waiting at Holborn. I'm one of those people that finds the light in every situation, and after envisaging my walk of shame found myself giggling on the train. That made everyone- crammed together, touching each other- very comfortable I'm sure.

Survived it though, and it was in a lovely place called the Hospital Club. If you don't have to be a member (which I'm pretty sure you do), lets go for coffee and thinking.

Boyfriend is in a place I can't spell. Yeovil? Either way, it's not here, and that irritates me.

I kind of want to ditch him for a week though, get him back once Valentine's is over, because for the life of me I don't know what to do.

I can't buy him something extravagant, because I can't afford it and it's too soon to be buying the world. I can't get him something thoughtful, I already did that for his birthday and I can't think of much else. Honestly, I don't do much thinking, and my head has decided to rebel. It's given me the (dis)ability to blur my computer screen when working. I can see just fine, I can focus on this just fine, but edexcel? Nope.

Should get back to it though. Phonecalls to make and a travelcard to make use of

x

Angry young women

When I get to Waterloo on my way home, bump into the lesbian Community Support Officer who I used to go for cigarette breaks with. We walk to our usual spot and she tells me the latest. 

She coaches teenagers football, and up until Christmas had been dating one of the girls Mums. She ended up going for a take away round their's last Friday and the teenager walked in on them kissing in the kitchen. The 16 year old went for the officer, right hooked to the face and then tried to choke her. 

....................................................................................................................................................................On the train home, Caucasian girl who I can only assume is called Shaniqua talking to friend about how another girl borrowed her jacket and ripped it, and how she's not going to talk to her for tiiiime. Her father then calls and it becomes apparent he doesn't believe she's on the train. She eventually gets a fellow passenger to speak on the phone and tell her father that is in fact where she is. He is still unconvinced. The 'Dad, I''m on the train' is repeated again and again till an old man shouts 'WE ALL KNOW YOU'VE BEEN ON THE TRAIN FOR HALF AN HOUR.'

Sniggers all over the show. 'Alright Dad, I've got to go, some arrogant, c***- old man is having a go at me...' Laughing stops. 

....................................................................................................................................................................

In other news, I got a cheap opening night ticket to go see Richard the III with Kevin Spacey, directed by Sam Mendes. Only got one ticket, and there'll be a pillar in the way but I don't care.

I've spent the rest of my concious hours, for reasons that I can't disclose, trying to find out where I can hire a chinook.

Boyfriend has a big tomorrow, finger crossing x

men men men men manly men men men...MEN

O. GOD.
So apparently I'm totally untrained in the art of not thinking about men.

I've always loved working in London because there's men EVERYWHERE. ITS GREAT.

I was fully aware when I fancied best friends Ryan Shettle and Max Allen that I was also in adoration of their fathers- I was 6 years old, and starting as I meant to go on.

So now this boyfriend malarkey has left me in a bit of bother, what am I supposed to think about all day?

I want a man petting zoo. I don't know what it is but I love treating a man. So many guys are stressed. So stressed, they work hard, and they have all these silly complex issues with themselves. I just like making a man feel good. Relax. Maybe I should have become a masseuse or a chef, but I don't really want anything in exchange.

For the past year I've been looking for someone who wants to make me feel good too, and now I've got one.

Only problem is, I don't like not being able to make other men feel good too.

My man is gorgeous. He's yummy and funny and successful and sweet and an inspiration. I think I'm having trouble letting him make me feel good. I'm the giver. This may take some getting used to...

Have started working in the office now, bar Friday I'm still up everyday at 4.30am. The hours are a little brutal, but the people are fun. I feel grown up when I answer the phone, but not so grown up at how much I love having a microwave.

Work now.
x

P.S. Went rock climbing on Saturday. Silly awesome. Nearly back to being able to move.

I'm ill

and I don't like it x

Well, this is silly.

It is impossible to do a proper blog.
And stupid.

Far too much happens far too quickly.

When the Director and I had our first date we went for lemonade on the Southbank, then when we were at Waterloo waiting for my train (which I intentionally missed 3 of) we sat in Costa, and were horrified to see a sack of Krispy Kreme doughnuts that were getting thrown away. To us, with their open mouths they were in despair, and with an accompanying whimper, the doughnut face was invented.

When I was out for lunch with the journalist on Tuesday (who I'd met up with twice since my first blog), I was very aware of what a man I completely adore said to me of my situation- 'go for the one that makes you laugh.' Journalist was gorgeous. Dark hair, dark skin, blue eyes. The physical attraction was great, and to top it off he was intelligent and well spoken. But he wasn't the Director. Here I am, in an expensive restaurant with a totally handsome man, and as I look out from our table at the 180 degree view of the Thames, all I can see is the director, doing an impression of an abandoned doughnut.

I tried to shake it off though, quite difficult as you try and forget the sizeable ego of the journalist, and lack of humour. I was acutely aware of my ego mirroring his, and whilst I enjoyed being a flirtatious temptress, that's not what I was looking to be. We went back to his for a film, but the journalist couldn't keep his hands off me. I left before we watched it, only with the Director in mind.

Let me say about the man, we went for a date last week in Epsom and I have never laughed so hard over a meal- there were times when I genuinely thought I might have an accident in a public place as an adult. I hadn't even been drinking. He spent a fair amount in the restaurant semi-nude, took the piss out of me beyond belief (not one to hold back, he'd told me I had a wonky nose on our first date), and after our meal we went to On the Run where we bought a hot chocolate that we took to the lookout at Epsom Downs. We sat and talked...for 3 hours.

SO I had a few cigarettes and called him, he picked me up and we sat in the car. We're both tired of dating and I don't want anyone but him. Being as thick as I am I didn't get what he was saying, but his idea was that we'd be exclusive, that I would be his girlfriend. I was a bit shell shocked to be frank, I just didn't get it. I made him spell it out to me, and when I finally clicked I agreed. It sort of amazed me that someone who is so awesome wanted me all to themselves.

That probably explained why I jogged to the station despite being well on time, and I've sung even more than usual today.

I don't think I'll be blogging much about him. Feels a bit of an invasion.

In other news I got a photo of me today with twins. It was the kids that played Ross Gellar's kid Ben in Friends, and the kid in Big Daddy. They're quite tall now and as they have their own show on Nickelodeon my brother is in complete awe.

I also have the lurgy and will be going to bed now

Night x

Sample this:

Sampling outside LSE today where I met a man, a non-journalist, on his way to play squash. We're going flat hunting on Tuesday. I still haven't told him my name.

Tuesday evening I will be going to a violinists album launch, as date to the marketing something-or-other. Don't know what to wear.

How do I get into these things?

Tonight I'm headed to the Putney theatre to support a friend. His debut in England, and the first time I'll see him perform. Can't wait.

Ate breakfast, lunch AND dinner in the space of 4 hours today, all by 2pm. Not sure how or why. When I came home I watched 1 hour photo.  It's scary seeing Robin Williams like that. I still only ever see him as Peter Pan in Hook.

In Brighton tomorrow for work, then at a house party in the village- not the M.Night.Shyamanlananala film- Ashtead.

Knackered and definitely not ready, see you soon

x

p.s. the boys are now fascinated with a youtube clip about Barney the Dinosaur. I haven't seen it myself, apparently it's about setting him on fire. Charming. I personally used to be a big fan of Barney, but insanely jealous of the kids on his show. I mean insanely.

Blog-cherry-pop;

• Artists you've never heard of, that I know you've never heard of, but pretend I assume you've heard of.
• Artists I do know that, although mediocre,  I can say I was there from the beginning.
• Made up words that will one day more painful then watching bad child actors.
• Photos I took with my SLR
• A blend of philosophy that I will share after 2 minutes in my mind, and blasé words that took a good 2 hours to construct and perfect

Now that I've put all that on my blog, let me just say, these will be sporadic, scatty, perhaps rambling, but at least truthful and with a sense of humour. I know I'm not cool; I used to buy flowers for my Mum on the way home from school for no reason, I get phones stolen/lost every fortnight, I rejected leggings for a good 2 years (and then couldn't get them off), and when people ask me where I'm from they haven't heard of Ashtead. 

At the moment, I smoke, which I know isn't cool, but I like it. I'm not addicted, it's like chocolate from One Stop at school. I'd go through phases of having one every day instead of every few days, gorging all day everyday, and then back to not having any for a few weeks. I like the feeling of smoke in my lungs and being concious of taking a few minutes out to think. Criminal.

It's hard to write what I think, because when I think it I'm too busy thinking it, not how to convey. 

I'm famed for my love of men, I won't mention all of them in here or any names, but will give a brief insight. 

Had two dates last week:

One, a BBC documentary maker with an  Islamic extremist stepbrother. 

• Tooth chipped from hockey as a kid (but I like it)
• Blue eyes
• Stubble
• Doesn't drink (nothing to do with muslimness, he's not religious, just doesn't drink)
• Drives a Landrover

The other, a privately educated marketing something-or-other who trained as an opera singer.

• Dark hair
• Owns his own flat with his twin sister
• Arrogant (but responds well to ego-bashing)
• Found endearing when he told me he's Jewish, and it's his job at his synagogue to blow this horn trumpet thing at Jewish New Year (even more endearing when he told me he mucked it up once)
• Impressed me by not complaining when I was over an hour late to a shindig he'd invited me to because I'd fallen asleep

We'll see how they go.

The friends that read this all know if I died tomorrow there'd only be one love of my life. We were kids though, he has a girlfriend now who sounds awesome; she windsurfs and studied Arabic at Cambridge. 

The guy taught me about personal growth and really striving to eliminate ego and be the best you can be, for all. That's pretty much my focus everyday, spreading positivity, and though I'm sure I'd have got there eventually, he definitely gave me a kick-start, and for that I love him entirely. 

I'm not planning on dying tomorrow though...

As a new blogger, I clearly know nothing about layout, short and sweet etc.

I'm doing this blog because:

•  I was prompted by a friend who I respect and therefore listen to (although it may be due to her sensational culinary skills that I respect her)
• due to phones being stolen and anti-social working hours my friends never know what I'm up to
• my life is quite often hilarious

I'm sure ordinarily I would edit this to make it more readable, but I'm bored now and intend to go for a cigarette. My brothers have watched too many tv adverts and their crying about me getting cancer gets irritating, so its a secretive affair. It is also my first and last cigarette of the day before you get narky. It could be worse. I could call them fags. 

Night

x

p.s. The eldest of my younger brothers just sent an email to the youngest (-he's recently got the internet on his iTouch and is browsing crazy). Attached was a photo he took of his own poo.