Okay, time has seemingly flown by and in two weeks I’ll already be home again.
After over two months here I can boldly say that as far as I’m concerned, culture shock is a myth. And so is home sickness.
And that coming here was probably the best decision of my life. Classes are interesting and challenging and even fun, and everything else is just pure awesome.
One of the things that I love is how almost everyone here listens to the same kind of music I do (The Fratellis, The Virgins, Vampire Weekend etc). But also, when we’re going out then the DJ had better play bad/amazing mainstream songs that everybody knows. Which he fortunately did last night when we went to Kasbah in Coventry (first night spent out of campus for me!). He even played 'All I Want for Christmas Is You'! But the thing with this song is that whenever I hear it, the words that come to my head straight away are not the official ones:
(This version is much better anyway.)
And right after that they played 'California Gurls' to which I was also tempted to sing along with the wrong words.
Anyway, before going to town we attended Cryfield Circles. Circling is a Warwick tradition. Every week sports clubs have a night of sitting in a circle and playing drinking games. Some weeks they have a dress code, and they always have strict rules.
Because we’re that great, we’ve started the first and only block circle (well, Luc has). I’m not going to list all the numerous rules, but they are hardcore (no crossing any limbs (that’s by far the worst one. Not even fingers!), no touching your face, no mobiles etc etc). Which equals the best night in quite a while!
You’ve got to admit there is something brilliant about the British way of partying – start drinking around seven, go out at about ten, get back from the club well before three. Saves time at least.
A weird thing is how I’m now taking it as a compliment when people say I don’t seem as old as I really am. (Should I start lying about my age already?) Basically, I fit right in, and my fears that all 18-year-olds would be majorly immature have not come true in the slightest.
Or maybe it’s just that I’m as immature as they are. In any case, good times.
I’m gonna leave you with a song that I’m currently in love with. Amazing lyrics (and awesome accent! Sucks that I haven’t met any Scottish people here).
Showing posts with label Thoughts and ramblings. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Thoughts and ramblings. Show all posts
Picture from weheartit.com
I wrote down some of the especially truthful statements from the What UCAS Forgot To Tell You About University... Facebook group (UCAS is of course the website that manages applications to British universities).
Pound coins are priceless. – They’re definitely worth more then just one pound. For example when you need to take a bus or do laundry.
You live for post. – Post really is great. And I’ve never before got so much of it. You get everything in the post here, including your debit card, bank codes, SIM etc.
Going to bed at 2am is an early night.
You won't survive without the internet. – That isn’t really limited to uni, is it?
Food is more expensive than you think.
The halls were only clean on the open day. – And during Orientation week, when there were only two of us living here.
You won't miss TV.
I-player is God. – No, 4oD is.
You'll eventually become immune to alcohol. – I can see that happening, yes.
You have no idea what is going on in the world outside uni. – Well, you might do. If it’s a trending topic on Twitter.
You will be Faceraped many times. – Not me, because I always lock my door and turn off my laptop, but yes, it happens every day.
You will worship Tesco. – Wouldn’t have guessed that, but yes, Tesco is awesome. Pretty much everything we use is Tesco’s: from bread and juice to the sandwich grill and kitchen radio. I might even switch to Tesco’s vodka soon because it’s so much cheaper. And everyone who’s drunk it is still alive.
Your calculator will become your soul mate. – Mwaahahaha, not for me. Not this time.
You will go out until 4 am before an important lecture.
You will start thinking and talking like your friends around you, and will pick up a mixture of silly accents. – 'I know, right.' (with an American accent. Or 'aah, for fook's sake' with a Northern accent. So basically, yes.)
You'll eat cereal for dinner. – You’ll eat anything you have anytime you’re hungry. Meal times are so overrated.
You will find yourself browsing Youtube for hours.
You will destroy your corridor in halls after a good night out. – Destroy is perhaps too strong a term, but covering doors with Post-It notes is something we do quite often.
You'll join everything in Freshers' week, but then go to none of the meetings. – Embarrassingly, that seems to be the case, yes.
You will sit in front of your computer refreshing Facebook every minute. – It’s really quite sad, when you think about it.
Your room will never look as good as somebody else’s. – So true. But I didn’t have the opportunity to bring a carload of stuff here, did I?
You will find yourself phoning your mum more often than you thought. – I was surprised. (Although she still thinks I don't do it often enough.)
You can never afford food, but always a night out!
Pound coins are priceless. – They’re definitely worth more then just one pound. For example when you need to take a bus or do laundry.
You live for post. – Post really is great. And I’ve never before got so much of it. You get everything in the post here, including your debit card, bank codes, SIM etc.
Going to bed at 2am is an early night.
You won't survive without the internet. – That isn’t really limited to uni, is it?
Food is more expensive than you think.
The halls were only clean on the open day. – And during Orientation week, when there were only two of us living here.
You won't miss TV.
I-player is God. – No, 4oD is.
You'll eventually become immune to alcohol. – I can see that happening, yes.
You have no idea what is going on in the world outside uni. – Well, you might do. If it’s a trending topic on Twitter.
You will be Faceraped many times. – Not me, because I always lock my door and turn off my laptop, but yes, it happens every day.
You will worship Tesco. – Wouldn’t have guessed that, but yes, Tesco is awesome. Pretty much everything we use is Tesco’s: from bread and juice to the sandwich grill and kitchen radio. I might even switch to Tesco’s vodka soon because it’s so much cheaper. And everyone who’s drunk it is still alive.
Your calculator will become your soul mate. – Mwaahahaha, not for me. Not this time.
You will go out until 4 am before an important lecture.
You will start thinking and talking like your friends around you, and will pick up a mixture of silly accents. – 'I know, right.' (with an American accent. Or 'aah, for fook's sake' with a Northern accent. So basically, yes.)
You'll eat cereal for dinner. – You’ll eat anything you have anytime you’re hungry. Meal times are so overrated.
You will find yourself browsing Youtube for hours.
You will destroy your corridor in halls after a good night out. – Destroy is perhaps too strong a term, but covering doors with Post-It notes is something we do quite often.
You'll join everything in Freshers' week, but then go to none of the meetings. – Embarrassingly, that seems to be the case, yes.
You will sit in front of your computer refreshing Facebook every minute. – It’s really quite sad, when you think about it.
Your room will never look as good as somebody else’s. – So true. But I didn’t have the opportunity to bring a carload of stuff here, did I?
You will find yourself phoning your mum more often than you thought. – I was surprised. (Although she still thinks I don't do it often enough.)
You can never afford food, but always a night out!
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My suitcase is almost packed. The only problem is that about 70% of it is filled, but I haven’t really put any clothes in yet. Trouble brewing, I’ll tell you… But there’s still over a week left. To pretend everything is A-ok.
When I’m not running around, trying to get everything done before I need to leave, I’m listening to Marina and the Diamonds. Yes, I already kind of wrote about her, but now that I’ve been listening to more of her songs, I can see that not just one, but almost all of them seem to be describing me. It’s actually a bit creepy. Has she somehow managed to break into my head and steal my thoughts and hopes and fears? Or rather, how is it that her autobiographical songs are so completely relatable to me? I’ve never had that with any artist before.
In any case, she’s basically the only pop star that I’d really want to meet and talk to. She seems to have substance – which just happens to be nearly identical to mine. I’m intrigued.
When I’m not running around, trying to get everything done before I need to leave, I’m listening to Marina and the Diamonds. Yes, I already kind of wrote about her, but now that I’ve been listening to more of her songs, I can see that not just one, but almost all of them seem to be describing me. It’s actually a bit creepy. Has she somehow managed to break into my head and steal my thoughts and hopes and fears? Or rather, how is it that her autobiographical songs are so completely relatable to me? I’ve never had that with any artist before.
In any case, she’s basically the only pop star that I’d really want to meet and talk to. She seems to have substance – which just happens to be nearly identical to mine. I’m intrigued.
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'In America only the successful writer is important, in France all writers are important, in England no writer is important, and in Australia you have to explain what a writer is.'Guess where I’m going this month in order to (eventually) become a writer?
Geoffrey Cottrell
Good old England. (But apparently it could be worse.)
I have no idea how much time I’ll actually have to work on my blog this year. The amount of stuff I have to read and write for my modules does scare me a bit. Maybe working on all those essays and portfolios will result in me wanting to do anything but write in my spare time? If I’ll have any spare time.
Or maybe I’ll have too much of it. There seems to be a lot less lectures and seminars than I had in Tartu. And there’s the infamous ‘Warwick bubble’ thing. Living on a campus pretty much in the middle of the countryside has to put certain limits on your social life.
Oh well, actually I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like I’ll be the only person living on campus. And it’s not like I’m not used to juggling a heavy workload while managing to find time to have a laugh. In secondary school there were a fair share of days with several tests plus an essay and/or presentation deadline. A month. At times a week. No probs really.And I’m fairly certain that I’ll be wanting to scribble down some things. Not on the subject of fashion, but on my life. On the things that surprise and amuse me, on what Britain and Brits really look and act like. On my struggles to blend in and adopt an accent that isn’t too posh or too regional. On my struggles to not be lumped in with the Eastern European crowd. On my struggles to survive in the UK as a person who doesn’t enjoy a pinta lager or a cuppa tea.
So I decided that there’s no point in fighting the inevitable. I’d rather consciously transform the focus of this blog than have it gradually turn into something completely different than what the readers might expect.
There might be some posts on fashion and style. I’m quite sure there will be. But there will also be posts on my life (you know, me either bragging or whining, depending on how I’ll actually get on there). Bad news: there will almost certainly be no DIY posts. I just can’t fit haberdashery stuff in my luggage.
The blog will remain in English. Why limit the readers? (The numbers will no doubt drop nonetheless, because ‘Estonian Girl in England’ is the kind of topic which isn’t universally fascinating nor is it that original. Not a gap in the market, believe me.)
So that’s cleared. People with no interest in my personal life: you can leave now. Thanks for coming. Get to the Home button safely.
Others: (Wow, really? Why?) Here are some of my thoughts before going.
What I’m looking forward to:
The taking the piss attitude. I’ve been doing it for years, but I sometimes wonder if my friends secretly hate me for my constant mean jokes. In Britain it’s the most natural thing. If you like someone, you make fun of them. Makes sense to me.
What I’m not looking forward to:
The buying the round thing. I get that it strengthens camaraderie but it’s hardly fair, is it? Economically speaking. I’m the poor foreign student who’s already having trouble fitting many nights out in my budget. Why am I expected to pay for other people’s drinks when I personally can’t afford to get drunk on fancy cocktails that others might well be choosing? And it’s not like anyone’s keeping count on the money spent or even the rounds bought. It’s a strange custom. Why couldn’t everyone just order their own drinks?
What my expectations are when it comes to other students:
I’m 21 which is 2-3 years older than most freshers. It does make me slightly nervous, because I might not have that much in common with them. What are young Brits actually like?
I’m hoping for The History Boys, because, well, I’m a dreamer. In reality I know that the vast majority of schoolboys are not like that at all. In reality it’ll most likely be a mix of Skins and The Inbetweeners. Not that I dislike those series! I find the former really original and the latter hysterical, but I have a feeling that I would feel like a teacher in those situations (read: old).
Oh well, I'll be finding that out soon enough. Leaving the country on the 28th.
Pictures from weheartit.com
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Last week I read Minu London – a book an Estonian fashion designer Anu Samarüütel-Long wrote about her life in London and Central Saint Martins. As it’s so far only been published in Estonian, the idea of reviewing it in English seems a bit daft. So…Ma tõesti tahtsin seda armastada. Sellel olid kõik eeldused saamaks üheks mu lemmikraamatuks. Aga kõik need komavead, mitmekordsed hüüumärgid ja SUURED TÄHED tekitasid mus tunde, nagu ma loeksin mõne teismelise blogi. Kellegi, kes on raamatutes näinud põnevaid lausekonstruktsioone ja väljendeid ning tahab neid kõiki ise ka kasutada, kuid see lihtsalt ei näi loomulik. Keegi, kes pole tegelikult veel suureks kasvanud, aga peab ennast teistest paremaks, kuna on elanud Londonis ja lugenud mõnda tarka raamatut. Seega suhtub ta oma lugejatesse üleolevalt – või vähemalt jätab sellise mulje. Nad on kõigest rumal lihtrahvas, kes ei või mingil juhul teada näiteks seda, et Big Ben on seal sees oleva kella, mitte torni enda nimi. Autor kasutab enne seda selgitust püüdlikult nime The Clock Tower, kuid naaseb paari peatüki järel isegi Big Beni juurde, mida iseenesest ei saa talle pahaks panna, sest, olgem ausad, tegelikult kutsuvad seda torni ju kõik nii.
Üldine kirjutusstiil oli mulle kuidagi eriti vastukarva ning väljendid nagu „vaat sulle pudingut siirupiga“, mida ta ise kindlasti nutikateks kildudeks pidas, panid mind paratamatult silmi pööritama ja hambaid krigistama.
Ma tean, et autori näol on tegemist 38aastase andeka moekunstnikuga, aga iga kord, kui ma raamatu avasin ning paar lõiku lugeda olin jõudnud, kangastus mulle upsakas 15aastane, kellega ma mingil juhul vestelda ei tahaks. Ja mul oli nii kahju. Muuhulgas sellest, et ma olin selle raamatu ostnud, mitte laenutanud.
That’s the really sad thing. Many young talented writers must go from publisher to publisher begging for a chance, but if you’re famous enough – in any field – then you’re showered with book deals; it doesn't matter if you’re worth being published or not.
But I’m not another naïve and idealistic artist, after all I’ve studied Economics. So I know that it’s inevitable. And practical. Because the public buys it.
My favourite example of that is Miley Cyrus’ autobiography Miles to Go. (By the way, there’s no way she came up with the title herself. Just saying.) I haven’t read it so I don’t know, maybe she’s an amazing writer, and I’m sure she’s had a more interesting life than almost anyone else who’s her age, but come on – writing an autobiography at the age of 16! That shouldn’t count as real literature.
Moving on to something nicer…
I watched the Glee season finale last night. And found it rather satisfying. It was just so completely utterly… Glee. They even sang "Don’t Stop Believin'" again!
But I really hate how they butchered Jesse’s storyline. In the beginning he’s mysterious and dangerous and exciting, then there’s the predictable and lame “I actually care about her” moment, then in the next episode he’s suddenly the fucking Satan and then in the finale he doesn’t even get a line. (Seriously, writers?!) But fortunately he still went out with a bang. I loved his and Vocal Adrenaline’s "Bohemian Rhapsody". Even though the way they had matched the choreography with cuts to Quinn giving birth was slightly creepy. But so is childbirth, so I guess it worked.
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Coco Rocha by Craig McDean for Vogue US (May 2008)Picture from fashiongonerogue.com
I got the idea to write a list of things about me from Haus of Lili. But right now I only managed to come up with 21. Here they are:
- I’m 21 years old.
- I was born in Tallinn, Estonia.
- Growing up, I was always the shortest one so I’m still getting used to the fact that I’m actually average height now (168cm/5'6'' is average! Loads of people are shorter than me. Really).
- I like how my name is pronounced differently depending on the language spoken. My favourite is the way the French say ‘Hélène’.
- According to my parents, the first thing I wanted to be when I grew up was “the one who makes adverts”. I don’t remember that myself. But I do remember wanting to be a nursery school teacher, a singer, an actor, a flight attendant, a tram driver, an artist, a florist, a fashion designer, a writer, a translator, a photographer, a jewellery designer etc. Right now I’m back to writer. And pretty certain about it.
- I’m a bit of a control freak. E.g. I need to be the one who holds the remote.
- In the end of May I’m moving out of the flat in Tartu that I’ve been living in since autumn 2008 and moving back into my room at my parents’ house. Whoa, that sounds so sad. It’s not permanent! In fact, on June 6 I’ll go to France and will stay there for four weeks learning French and getting to know loads of (hopefully) interesting people from around the world. Last summer I did that (read: had the time of my life) in Nice, this year it’s Chambéry. Can’t wait! But then in July I’ll return and spend the next three months in Tallinn. In October (or probably already in the end of September) I’ll go to England to study at the University of Warwick. Throwing the last two years of uni away. Back to square one. Swapping Economics and Business Administration for English Literature and Creative Writing. Not the most practical choice, I’ll admit. But swapping a world top 600 university for a world top 60 university on the other hand is not so bad, eh? Neither is following your dream and passion.
- I’m not afraid of spiders or snakes or insects or rodents or heights or tight spaces.
- But I’m afraid of embarrassing myself in public and of being judged. And clowns and mascots, a bit. But mostly I just hate them.
- If plastic surgery was free, safe, painless, and you were guaranteed to get exactly what you want then I’d definitely give it a go. But as it’s not any of those things, I’m currently not interested.
- I passed my driving test the first time.
- I don’t watch scary movies. And I don’t get why anyone would want to be scared.
- Confidence and certain arrogance turn me on.
- Stupidity and ignorance turn me off.
- I don’t like sports.
- But I’m highly competitive, so I love a game of tennis (or almost any other ballgame) with my mates. Provided I win. Joking. Kind of.
- I want to have a wedding. Not so sure about the marriage bit, to be honest. But a huge fancy wedding with the perfect flowers and food and music and the most beautiful white gown ever – yes, please!
- I have a ton of pet peeves. It’s very easy to annoy me.
- I don’t like pineapples, honey or olives.
- My favourite number is 1. Why be anything less than number one?
- I’m a sceptic. I believe in science. And myself. And that’s about it.
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Aw, I miss Jesse. He and Rachel were a joy together. Powerful, talented, ambitious and by definition the enemy – he is so much more interesting than dumb jocks Finn and Puck with whom Rachel has nothing in common.And Rachel and Jesse’s numbers together are magical – those two Broadway stars really stand out among the already talented cast.
Plus, the fact that Lea Michele and Jonathan Groff are besties in real life is just super cute.
Speaking of awesome Broadway stars who have appeared on Glee, Kristin Chenoweth recently slammed the ill-informed and homophobic article on Newsweek that suggested that gay actors can’t play straight characters.In my opinion Jesse is the hottest (straight) guy on Glee, and a significant number of straight guys I know idolise Barney Stinson, so I really don’t get what the author of the article is on about. What's more shocking though, is that it got published at all. I bet they’re kicking themselves now.Setoodeh even goes so far as to justify his knee-jerk homophobic reaction to gay actors by accepting and endorsing that “as viewers, we are molded by a society obsessed with dissecting sexuality, starting with the locker room torture in junior high school.” Really? We want to maintain and proliferate the same kind of bullying that makes children cry and in some recent cases have even taken their own lives? That’s so sad, Newsweek!
The examples he provides (what scientists call ’selection bias’) to prove his ‘gays can’t play straight’ hypothesis are sloppy in my opinion. Come on now! Openly gay Groff is too ‘queeny’ to play Lea Michele’s boyfriend in Glee, but is a ‘heartthrob’ when he does it in Spring Awakening? Cynthia Nixon only “got away with it” ’cause she peaked before coming out? I don’t know if you’ve missed the giant Sex and the City movie posters, but it seems most of America is ‘buying it.’ I could go on, but I assume these will be taken care of in your ‘Corrections’ this week.
Read more: http://justjared.buzznet.com/2010/05/10/kristin-chenoweth-slams-newsweeks-homophobic-article/#ixzz0nqbgoD7Y
Pictures from fuckyeahgleelove.tumblr.com
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Usually when people spend a longer amount of time in a different country speaking a different language then at one point they start thinking in that language. I wonder how and when exactly that happens for most people. For me, it’s all abnormally (I think) quick. I don’t know if it’s my certain knack for languages or language in general, but my thoughts switch between Estonian and English all the time and I’ve yet to live in an English-speaking country. Last summer when I spent a month in France, by the third day my inner monologues had unconsciously shifted into French even though I struggled to express myself in it. Even in my head. And thus was forced to switch back to Estonian. While talking to the Americans on my course, I unintentionally bent my accent a bit towards the American one and tried to avoid British terms, and found myself using super simple, sometimes even grammatically incorrect sentences to match the ones of those Europeans whose English skills were below average.
And it’s not just foreign languages. I remember reading Tartuffe while waiting to go shopping with my mum (Molière at the mall. Classy, right). Then she arrived, and when I suggested we went into a store I liked I nearly used a sentence structure that was straight from this 17th century play.
Last year when my brother brought home the complete collection of Friends on DVD and had it playing in the living room all through the summer I found myself expressing my thoughts and even thinking them like Phoebe (cocky Phoebe from the later series, not kooky Phoebe from the beginning).
And now that I’ve watched two seasons of Sex and the City in three days I just want to wonder about stuff like Carrie. End every train of thought with a question or three and make generalisations about all the (single) people in town. And it’s the same with almost every television series, film, book etc. It’s like whatever I’m exposed to I become.
If the way I think is so easily influenced by everything around me then when am I really being myself? They say you can tell what a person is like by looking at their friends. But if we strip away all the people and influences and foreign languages, would there be anything left? Or would the real us simply be lost in translation?
(See, that is classic Carrie. May seem deep at first but when you really think about it… meh.)
And it’s not just foreign languages. I remember reading Tartuffe while waiting to go shopping with my mum (Molière at the mall. Classy, right). Then she arrived, and when I suggested we went into a store I liked I nearly used a sentence structure that was straight from this 17th century play.
Last year when my brother brought home the complete collection of Friends on DVD and had it playing in the living room all through the summer I found myself expressing my thoughts and even thinking them like Phoebe (cocky Phoebe from the later series, not kooky Phoebe from the beginning).
And now that I’ve watched two seasons of Sex and the City in three days I just want to wonder about stuff like Carrie. End every train of thought with a question or three and make generalisations about all the (single) people in town. And it’s the same with almost every television series, film, book etc. It’s like whatever I’m exposed to I become.
If the way I think is so easily influenced by everything around me then when am I really being myself? They say you can tell what a person is like by looking at their friends. But if we strip away all the people and influences and foreign languages, would there be anything left? Or would the real us simply be lost in translation?
(See, that is classic Carrie. May seem deep at first but when you really think about it… meh.)
Picture from geek.com
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I haven’t written about myself in a while so I decided to give you an opportunity to (re-)acquaint yourselves with me. Here are some things about me that you probably didn’t know before. 
I need to have a plan of action at all times. And preferably a to-do list. That’s not to say that I don’t do anything spontaneous, but I never lose sight of the bigger picture. Example: I don’t yet know where tomorrow night takes me and that’s exciting, but I need to have a vision of where I am in a year. And in ten years. 
I look up everything I don’t know or fully understand on Wikipedia. Or Google image search. Or a dictionary. Usually Urban Dictionary. 
I love taking baths. With bath salts or bath milk or a bath tablet. But no bubbles, thanks. And when I’m in a jacuzzi and no one is around to see and judge, I turn the jets off. 
I think Extras is still one of the best things in the world. It’s just so clever and subtle and layered, a breath of fresh air in a world where most comedies seem to be aimed at people without a sense of humour or the ability to think. [Also, how ironic is it that in 2008 Kate Winslet finally won an Oscar. For a film about the Holocaust.]
My attitude towards sleeping is staying awake until my eyes start to seriously hurt and then sleeping as long as I possibly can. Unhealthy? Perhaps. But wasting my time lying in bed waiting for sleep is angering and the sound of the alarm clock is the worst possible thing to ever hear. No matter what the sound is. About five years ago I set mine to the theme of Sex and the City for a while and even now whenever I hear the music it sends chills down my spine and I have to fight the urge to TURN THE FUCKING THING OFF.
I don’t drink coffee. Only the very rare latte or frappuchino. 
Often when I’m watching TV or a video on the computer I feel the overwhelming need to multitask. Even if it’s something as inane as playing Hearts. It’s like I’m becoming unable to focus on one thing at a time and it scares me a bit. 
I only drink fizzy drinks and eat crisps at parties and I feel the need to buy a bar of chocolate only when I’m really hungry and in a hurry, but I can’t resist a slice of cake. Or the following ones. 
Pictures from cityyandcolour.tumblr.com
I need to have a plan of action at all times. And preferably a to-do list. That’s not to say that I don’t do anything spontaneous, but I never lose sight of the bigger picture. Example: I don’t yet know where tomorrow night takes me and that’s exciting, but I need to have a vision of where I am in a year. And in ten years. 
I look up everything I don’t know or fully understand on Wikipedia. Or Google image search. Or a dictionary. Usually Urban Dictionary. 
I love taking baths. With bath salts or bath milk or a bath tablet. But no bubbles, thanks. And when I’m in a jacuzzi and no one is around to see and judge, I turn the jets off. 
I think Extras is still one of the best things in the world. It’s just so clever and subtle and layered, a breath of fresh air in a world where most comedies seem to be aimed at people without a sense of humour or the ability to think. [Also, how ironic is it that in 2008 Kate Winslet finally won an Oscar. For a film about the Holocaust.]My attitude towards sleeping is staying awake until my eyes start to seriously hurt and then sleeping as long as I possibly can. Unhealthy? Perhaps. But wasting my time lying in bed waiting for sleep is angering and the sound of the alarm clock is the worst possible thing to ever hear. No matter what the sound is. About five years ago I set mine to the theme of Sex and the City for a while and even now whenever I hear the music it sends chills down my spine and I have to fight the urge to TURN THE FUCKING THING OFF.
I don’t drink coffee. Only the very rare latte or frappuchino. 
Often when I’m watching TV or a video on the computer I feel the overwhelming need to multitask. Even if it’s something as inane as playing Hearts. It’s like I’m becoming unable to focus on one thing at a time and it scares me a bit. 
I only drink fizzy drinks and eat crisps at parties and I feel the need to buy a bar of chocolate only when I’m really hungry and in a hurry, but I can’t resist a slice of cake. Or the following ones. 
Pictures from cityyandcolour.tumblr.com
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I was going to write a post about all kinds of amazing clothes that I’d love to own, but are clearly out of my price range. Then I changed my mind.
This is a post about something I want far more than any designer product, but might not be able to afford either.
I’m talking about the English Literature and Creative Writing course at Warwick University.
I’ve been doing a lot of research on possible scholarships and grants, so fingers crossed I find some way to pay for it.
I’m posting some answers from my online interview in case anyone’s interested. But feel free to skip this far too long post, because I don’t imagine there are very many people who find it helpful or an otherwise thrilling read.
I didn’t know what they were expecting from me and took a few risks. Seems that they paid off. Still, even now a part of me can’t believe that I actually wrote about some of the stuff below. And that they offered me a place after that.
What is about Warwick University and this course that attracts you?
Creative activities, especially writing, have appealed to me since I can remember. For me, the biggest thrill I can have is allowing characters from my strange imagination to come to life on paper: giving them personalities, ideas, problems, adventures, lives. Last year, after having studied Economics and Business Administration for nearly three semesters I finally made the decision to focus on what I love doing the most – which is without a doubt creative writing.
Studying in the United Kingdom has been my goal since my favourite lessons at school – British Literature and English – gave me some knowledge of the country and its culture and left me desperate to learn more. As I am determined to improve my writing skills as much as possible, studying English Literature and Creative Writing at Warwick is unquestionably the best possible step for me to take.
I’ll admit that the first time I heard about this institution was on Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant’s former radio show. Merchant’s anecdotes about his time there made it sound like a charming and exciting place. Having done excessive research before applying, I can now say with certainty that it would be the best place for me to study the subject I am interested in. Not only has the department consistently achieved impressive results, but the overall atmosphere on the campus appears to be ideal for a versatile and memorable university experience.
What are your three favourite books beyond what you have read for your studies - and why do you admire them? They don't all have to be “literary” books.
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Before reading American Psycho I did not understand how an art form could truly influence a person, but now I can honestly say that this novel changed my life. It was unlike any other book I had read before, breaking all the rules I thought existed in fiction writing. The main character Patrick Bateman lacks any likeable qualities; he is the ugly face of today’s shallow consumerist society. His prejudiced thoughts and violent actions make the whole book completely politically incorrect. Also, it does not have a clear moral message, the antagonist is not punished or condemned and there is not even a real conclusion. Reading it at the age of 18 opened my eyes about the immense freedom a writer has and convinced me to follow my childhood dream of becoming one myself.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind
Even though the subject matter was not something I had any particular interest in, the book effortlessly captured and intrigued me from the first page. The author’s spectacularly elaborate descriptions manage to make the main character’s extraordinary world that is filled with millions of distinguishable smells seem real, tangible. It offers an insight into the depraved mind of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, showing how dangerously fine the line between passion and obsession is. Through his destructive quest to create the ideal scent and his bitter disillusionment with its effects the reader sees the hidden dangers of striving for perfection. Like the character of Patrick Bateman, Grenouille is thoroughly evil, but utterly fascinating. The powerful, haunting ending that American Psycho lacks makes this book a literary masterpiece in my mind.
Atonement by Ian McEwan
Right from the beginning, I could relate to Briony’s character. As a child, I too wrote numerous plays that I wanted to perform with my friends and relatives, only to be frustrated every time since their levels of enthusiasm always failed to reach mine. Atonement is a heartbreaking tale about the power of an artist’s wild imagination. Not only can it create remarkable work, but it can just as easily destruct people’s lives. The narrative lets the reader see situations through different eyes, giving multiple interpretations and offering the idea of the relativity of truth. The last part of the novel reveals that the whole preceding story was a book written by Briony. It changes the value of the words as they too were a part of Briony’s imagination and the real feelings and actions of the characters remain forever unknown. Even though giving people a fictional happy ending does not mean anything except gives the author a certain feeling of atonement, I could not help but sympathise with Briony who spends her whole life regretting a childhood mistake that can not be undone.
Have you ever experienced any personal struggle in your life, and did that struggle inform your writing?
Fortunately I have not experienced any serious personal struggle in my life. The situation that seems funny now but was highly tragic for me at the time happened in June 2008, a couple of days before graduation while we were on a school trip to Bulgaria. Everyone kept checking their mobile phones all evening to see if they had yet received the final exam results. These were for the Estonian exam which was a kirjand, a piece of writing similar to an essay with the time limit of six hours.
For me, that was the most important exam because it was basically my first piece of writing evaluated by someone outside our school. I had always enjoyed writing kirjand’s in class and my mock exam had gone exceptionally well: I received 96 points out of 100, which was the best result of the year. After that everyone around me expected me to get maximum points in the real exam since the teachers in our school were known to be much stricter than the ones who assessed the exams. As a result I was quite confident waiting for my score – which made the shock all the greater. I got 89 points and looking at these numbers on my phone screen I remember thinking, so that is what it feels like when your world crashes down. I had not admitted it to anyone and not even to myself, but I truly believed I would get 100 points. Even 99 would have been a bit of a disappointment, and to get ten points less than that was devastating. To me, the result had a different meaning than it did to all my classmates. I was not worried about the possibility of losing a place at some university because of it; I started questioning myself and my writing abilities as I had failed to ace a simple writing task that everyone who wishes to finish secondary education has to pass.
In a way, it was writing that got me through it. The book I was working on at the time was largely autobiographical, so a few moments after receiving my score – like in most other situations in my life – I imagined how it would look like in the book and decided that a dramatic moment like that would fit in it perfectly. So for the remainder of the night, even when I was crying on my friends’ shoulders and admitting the fear of not being a good enough writer, I was making mental notes of my emotions and thoughts. A few times I even fantasised about being a published writer who is able to laugh in the face of this person who failed to comprehend my genius. Later, writing it down, I relived it during every rewrite, analysed my feelings and came to peace with them. I also realised that painful moments provide the best inspiration and material, giving me as a writer exclusive insight into the human soul while it is being ripped apart.
Do you like your own writing?
I do. I reread and rewrite my pieces until I am completely satisfied with the result.
In my final school year our Estonian teacher read out some poetry that members of our class had written seven years before. After having to listen to a bunch of long and childish poems, I finally heard one that I liked, and muttered to my friend, “At last, one that’s actually quite good.” Then the teacher revealed that it had been written by me. The blush that these words caused to appear on my cheeks only deepened when this friend decided to immediately tell all the people around us exactly what had happened.
So I guess that means I can say that I would like my writing even if I did not know it had been written by me.
And, finally, please write 200 words arguing that ‘Inspiration is central to creative writing’; and then write 200 words arguing the opposite.
Creative writing is nothing like being an accountant, cashier or manager – it is unlike most work. Remarkable literary pieces can not be written by anyone, anytime. The writer always has to come up with something new and interesting. There has to be an original idea and these do not come whenever you decide to write, whenever you decide to have them. There has to be a catalyst that starts the creative process, some sort of influence, something we are inspired by. Inspiration can not be planned, because it can come at any time and we can never even guess where it could take us. But when it suddenly strikes, it can fill the empty page you might have been staring at for hours with captivating text as quickly as you are able move your pen on it. I know from my own experience how easily a book can inspire you to become a writer and a surreal dream can inspire you to come up with a whole film script. Once there is a phenomenal idea, you can centre your whole work on it. But there’s the rub: you need to find it first.
If we are being honest then the lack of inspiration is nothing but an excuse – albeit a good one – not to create something. More often than not, getting to work and concentrating on it produces better results than waiting for this mysterious thing called inspiration to suddenly come and take over. Ideas are everywhere and all of them are really rooted in the author’s own mind. In the end, it is the writer who does the work. The face, song, weather condition or whatever else that inspired him or her did not create anything. Neither did hundreds of other people who probably saw, heard or experienced the exact same thing. The writer sensed something innovative the others did not, but it was something he or she knew all along. All that the author received was a push in the right direction. And from then on it was his/her own hard work that produced the writing. There are plenty of authors who write for several hours every day and achieve impressive results. It is not realistic to believe they receive the same amount of inspiration every time, but it is fair to say that they put the work in.
This is a post about something I want far more than any designer product, but might not be able to afford either.
And I got offered one of the places! Dreams do come true.Approximately one-thousand home/EU applicants apply every year for its twenty-five places making it one of the most popular arts degree courses in Europe. However, this degree attracts substantial numbers of young writers from the Americas, China, Singapore, India and Africa.
From the course website
I’m talking about the English Literature and Creative Writing course at Warwick University.
I’ve been doing a lot of research on possible scholarships and grants, so fingers crossed I find some way to pay for it.
I’m posting some answers from my online interview in case anyone’s interested. But feel free to skip this far too long post, because I don’t imagine there are very many people who find it helpful or an otherwise thrilling read.
I didn’t know what they were expecting from me and took a few risks. Seems that they paid off. Still, even now a part of me can’t believe that I actually wrote about some of the stuff below. And that they offered me a place after that.
What is about Warwick University and this course that attracts you?
Creative activities, especially writing, have appealed to me since I can remember. For me, the biggest thrill I can have is allowing characters from my strange imagination to come to life on paper: giving them personalities, ideas, problems, adventures, lives. Last year, after having studied Economics and Business Administration for nearly three semesters I finally made the decision to focus on what I love doing the most – which is without a doubt creative writing.
Studying in the United Kingdom has been my goal since my favourite lessons at school – British Literature and English – gave me some knowledge of the country and its culture and left me desperate to learn more. As I am determined to improve my writing skills as much as possible, studying English Literature and Creative Writing at Warwick is unquestionably the best possible step for me to take.
I’ll admit that the first time I heard about this institution was on Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant’s former radio show. Merchant’s anecdotes about his time there made it sound like a charming and exciting place. Having done excessive research before applying, I can now say with certainty that it would be the best place for me to study the subject I am interested in. Not only has the department consistently achieved impressive results, but the overall atmosphere on the campus appears to be ideal for a versatile and memorable university experience.
What are your three favourite books beyond what you have read for your studies - and why do you admire them? They don't all have to be “literary” books.
American Psycho by Bret Easton Ellis
Before reading American Psycho I did not understand how an art form could truly influence a person, but now I can honestly say that this novel changed my life. It was unlike any other book I had read before, breaking all the rules I thought existed in fiction writing. The main character Patrick Bateman lacks any likeable qualities; he is the ugly face of today’s shallow consumerist society. His prejudiced thoughts and violent actions make the whole book completely politically incorrect. Also, it does not have a clear moral message, the antagonist is not punished or condemned and there is not even a real conclusion. Reading it at the age of 18 opened my eyes about the immense freedom a writer has and convinced me to follow my childhood dream of becoming one myself.
Perfume: The Story of a Murderer by Patrick Süskind
Even though the subject matter was not something I had any particular interest in, the book effortlessly captured and intrigued me from the first page. The author’s spectacularly elaborate descriptions manage to make the main character’s extraordinary world that is filled with millions of distinguishable smells seem real, tangible. It offers an insight into the depraved mind of Jean-Baptiste Grenouille, showing how dangerously fine the line between passion and obsession is. Through his destructive quest to create the ideal scent and his bitter disillusionment with its effects the reader sees the hidden dangers of striving for perfection. Like the character of Patrick Bateman, Grenouille is thoroughly evil, but utterly fascinating. The powerful, haunting ending that American Psycho lacks makes this book a literary masterpiece in my mind.
Atonement by Ian McEwan
Right from the beginning, I could relate to Briony’s character. As a child, I too wrote numerous plays that I wanted to perform with my friends and relatives, only to be frustrated every time since their levels of enthusiasm always failed to reach mine. Atonement is a heartbreaking tale about the power of an artist’s wild imagination. Not only can it create remarkable work, but it can just as easily destruct people’s lives. The narrative lets the reader see situations through different eyes, giving multiple interpretations and offering the idea of the relativity of truth. The last part of the novel reveals that the whole preceding story was a book written by Briony. It changes the value of the words as they too were a part of Briony’s imagination and the real feelings and actions of the characters remain forever unknown. Even though giving people a fictional happy ending does not mean anything except gives the author a certain feeling of atonement, I could not help but sympathise with Briony who spends her whole life regretting a childhood mistake that can not be undone.
Have you ever experienced any personal struggle in your life, and did that struggle inform your writing?
Fortunately I have not experienced any serious personal struggle in my life. The situation that seems funny now but was highly tragic for me at the time happened in June 2008, a couple of days before graduation while we were on a school trip to Bulgaria. Everyone kept checking their mobile phones all evening to see if they had yet received the final exam results. These were for the Estonian exam which was a kirjand, a piece of writing similar to an essay with the time limit of six hours.
For me, that was the most important exam because it was basically my first piece of writing evaluated by someone outside our school. I had always enjoyed writing kirjand’s in class and my mock exam had gone exceptionally well: I received 96 points out of 100, which was the best result of the year. After that everyone around me expected me to get maximum points in the real exam since the teachers in our school were known to be much stricter than the ones who assessed the exams. As a result I was quite confident waiting for my score – which made the shock all the greater. I got 89 points and looking at these numbers on my phone screen I remember thinking, so that is what it feels like when your world crashes down. I had not admitted it to anyone and not even to myself, but I truly believed I would get 100 points. Even 99 would have been a bit of a disappointment, and to get ten points less than that was devastating. To me, the result had a different meaning than it did to all my classmates. I was not worried about the possibility of losing a place at some university because of it; I started questioning myself and my writing abilities as I had failed to ace a simple writing task that everyone who wishes to finish secondary education has to pass.
In a way, it was writing that got me through it. The book I was working on at the time was largely autobiographical, so a few moments after receiving my score – like in most other situations in my life – I imagined how it would look like in the book and decided that a dramatic moment like that would fit in it perfectly. So for the remainder of the night, even when I was crying on my friends’ shoulders and admitting the fear of not being a good enough writer, I was making mental notes of my emotions and thoughts. A few times I even fantasised about being a published writer who is able to laugh in the face of this person who failed to comprehend my genius. Later, writing it down, I relived it during every rewrite, analysed my feelings and came to peace with them. I also realised that painful moments provide the best inspiration and material, giving me as a writer exclusive insight into the human soul while it is being ripped apart.
Do you like your own writing?
I do. I reread and rewrite my pieces until I am completely satisfied with the result.
In my final school year our Estonian teacher read out some poetry that members of our class had written seven years before. After having to listen to a bunch of long and childish poems, I finally heard one that I liked, and muttered to my friend, “At last, one that’s actually quite good.” Then the teacher revealed that it had been written by me. The blush that these words caused to appear on my cheeks only deepened when this friend decided to immediately tell all the people around us exactly what had happened.
So I guess that means I can say that I would like my writing even if I did not know it had been written by me.
And, finally, please write 200 words arguing that ‘Inspiration is central to creative writing’; and then write 200 words arguing the opposite.
Creative writing is nothing like being an accountant, cashier or manager – it is unlike most work. Remarkable literary pieces can not be written by anyone, anytime. The writer always has to come up with something new and interesting. There has to be an original idea and these do not come whenever you decide to write, whenever you decide to have them. There has to be a catalyst that starts the creative process, some sort of influence, something we are inspired by. Inspiration can not be planned, because it can come at any time and we can never even guess where it could take us. But when it suddenly strikes, it can fill the empty page you might have been staring at for hours with captivating text as quickly as you are able move your pen on it. I know from my own experience how easily a book can inspire you to become a writer and a surreal dream can inspire you to come up with a whole film script. Once there is a phenomenal idea, you can centre your whole work on it. But there’s the rub: you need to find it first.
If we are being honest then the lack of inspiration is nothing but an excuse – albeit a good one – not to create something. More often than not, getting to work and concentrating on it produces better results than waiting for this mysterious thing called inspiration to suddenly come and take over. Ideas are everywhere and all of them are really rooted in the author’s own mind. In the end, it is the writer who does the work. The face, song, weather condition or whatever else that inspired him or her did not create anything. Neither did hundreds of other people who probably saw, heard or experienced the exact same thing. The writer sensed something innovative the others did not, but it was something he or she knew all along. All that the author received was a push in the right direction. And from then on it was his/her own hard work that produced the writing. There are plenty of authors who write for several hours every day and achieve impressive results. It is not realistic to believe they receive the same amount of inspiration every time, but it is fair to say that they put the work in.
Category:
But I want it,
Oh wow,
Thoughts and ramblings
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Took the Vogue Pub Quiz on general knowledge because, well, I love quizzes and general knowledge is the best kind, isn’t it? I didn’t score that much, but I’d like to think that the names of Alexa Chung’s father and Tiger Woods’ mistresses aren’t exactly crucial information in life.
These are the ones I did know the answer to (and I'm kind of proud of it):
Whose middle names were "Fingal O'Flahertie Wills"? (Only because his fanpage on Facebook has Fingal in its name. And I’m a fan.)
Who painted The Last Supper?
Which 2 countries in South America do not have a coastline?
Who did Peeping Tom peep at? (Only because I looked up the story on Wikipedia after hearing Karl Pilkington’s “Peeping Tom confession while The Telegraph [were] listening”.
)
Was Romeo a Montague or a Capulet? (Only because they had that question (about Julia) on a quiz in Brothers & Sisters.)
Name the Greek Goddess of Victory, after whom a sports brand is named?
Warwick university is in which city? (Only because I just got a conditional offer from Warwick. (Yep, I’m über thrilled, but I’ll tell you more when/if it’s certain I’ll be able to accept it.))
What was Napoleon's native language?
D
o zebras have black or white stripes?
Which novel begins with the words: "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife"? (In my experience, whenever a question starts with “Which novel begins with…” it’s always this sentence. But I’ve read the book too, of course.)
Name the two female characters in Scooby Doo.
Which artist designed the Chupa Chups logo?
On a traditional Monopoly board, which is the first square after "Go"? (I gave myself a point for knowing the first square on the Estonian version – come on, I’ve never played the original!)
In the Harry Potter series, into how many pieces did Lord Voldemort divide his soul?
What sign of the Zodiac was Jesus Christ?
Where are smallest bones in the body?
Take the quiz and see the answers here.
These are the ones I did know the answer to (and I'm kind of proud of it):
Whose middle names were "Fingal O'Flahertie Wills"? (Only because his fanpage on Facebook has Fingal in its name. And I’m a fan.)Who painted The Last Supper?
Which 2 countries in South America do not have a coastline?
Who did Peeping Tom peep at? (Only because I looked up the story on Wikipedia after hearing Karl Pilkington’s “Peeping Tom confession while The Telegraph [were] listening”.
)Was Romeo a Montague or a Capulet? (Only because they had that question (about Julia) on a quiz in Brothers & Sisters.)
Name the Greek Goddess of Victory, after whom a sports brand is named?
Warwick university is in which city? (Only because I just got a conditional offer from Warwick. (Yep, I’m über thrilled, but I’ll tell you more when/if it’s certain I’ll be able to accept it.))
What was Napoleon's native language?
D
o zebras have black or white stripes?Which novel begins with the words: "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife"? (In my experience, whenever a question starts with “Which novel begins with…” it’s always this sentence. But I’ve read the book too, of course.)
Name the two female characters in Scooby Doo.
Which artist designed the Chupa Chups logo?
On a traditional Monopoly board, which is the first square after "Go"? (I gave myself a point for knowing the first square on the Estonian version – come on, I’ve never played the original!)
In the Harry Potter series, into how many pieces did Lord Voldemort divide his soul?
What sign of the Zodiac was Jesus Christ?
Where are smallest bones in the body?
Take the quiz and see the answers here.
Pictures from vogue.co.uk
Category:
Test,
Thoughts and ramblings
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This is my last Christmas list this year. And these wishes are a bit more realistic meaning I might actually hope to find some of them under the Christmas tree in a few days. Well, not the actual tree, because a couple of years ago my mum decided that watching a big and beautiful tree die in our living room every year is unnecessary evil. And even if she agreed to get a smaller one it wouldn’t happen, because my dad is certain that any tree that doesn’t nearly reach the ceiling in the highest part of the living room is not worth getting.Over the years I’ve got over not having a tree in the house, because I know what Christmas is really about: presents. I’m not religious so for me Christmas is a purely materialistic holiday. Well, fine, presents aren’t the only noteworthy part of Christmas. There’s also snow. And eating far too much delicious food. Just thinking about it makes me all warm inside. I can’t wait!
Here's the list:
A new laptop – one that doesn’t threaten to crash any minute.
A Polaroid camera. It would be immensely cool, although the photos are so expensive that I’d probably barely use it.
Time spent with my friendsYeah, it’s ridiculously lame, but I’m a poor uni student who could really use the money. So vouchers or cold hard cash.
Also, you know what would be brilliant – a thicker skin. No, seriously, where can you get one of those? That’s a must-have and not just for this season.
And a bit of luck. I know I’ve had plenty, but a bit more couldn’t hurt, could it? Just for a few months. Cheers.
I wrote this blog post months ago, but then somehow forgot about it. Anyway, here it is now.
It’s about my two basic looks this autumn/winter.
The coat is from Reserved and together with this hat from Kaubamaja it makes me look quite like a member of the Russian Tzar’s army, I think. But I’m okay with that.
This is the other look.
The hat was given to me by my grandmother.
I’ve got two (grandmothers, that is. I’ve got even more hats.) and since I’ve written about both of them before and will probably continue to do so in the future, I should make a distinction.
My mum’s mother can sew pretty much anything – as long as she has the pattern. Improvising is not an option for her. I’m the opposite except when it comes to recipes. I’m not that good a cook that I’d dare change an ingredient here and another one there. Also, it’s about getting it right. If the recipe says pecan nuts then I will not use anything else and if halfway through it turns out that we’re out of vanilla extract then I might as well give up. It drives my mum mental, because she’s the kitchen rebel who breaks the rules on purpose. And that really annoys me, which is weird in a way, since there aren’t many things that I consider sacred.
But carrot cake just isn’t carrot cake without the right icing and preferably a little carrot drawn on top of every piece.
And the Caesar salad has very specific ingredients.
And you shouldn’t use dip sauce as regular sauce, because it’s dip sauce. It says so in the name.
And I could go on for hours.
I guess every generation focuses on not becoming their parents and by inclining towards the other extreme they inevitably become similar to their grandparents. At least in my family.
Which brings me to my other grandmother. She was born in a farm. (Actually, ¾ of my grandparents are originally from the countryside. Luckily they all moved to the capital and I consider myself a city girl through and through.) Anyway, my dad’s mother always knew that she wasn’t going to marry some country bloke and went to school in the city. As a young woman, she was mostly interested in beautiful clothes and partying.
And she’s still interested in fashion now. Her closets are full of stuff, but she keeps buying new things from her mail-order catalogues. I feel a bit sorry for her, because she gets all her information on the latest trends from these catalogues, the Estonian press, Sturm der Liebe and The Bold and the Beautiful. And she always loves to see what I’ve got from my latest shopping trip. When she saw the coat she said that purple seems to be the trend colour this season and that she has a great hat to go with it. And this is the one she meant.
I said to her, “I dunno, it might be a bit too feminine for this military-style coat…” She disagreed and said that nowadays they’re mixing all kinds of styles together. And well, she’s right.
It’s about my two basic looks this autumn/winter.
The coat is from Reserved and together with this hat from Kaubamaja it makes me look quite like a member of the Russian Tzar’s army, I think. But I’m okay with that.
This is the other look.
The hat was given to me by my grandmother.I’ve got two (grandmothers, that is. I’ve got even more hats.) and since I’ve written about both of them before and will probably continue to do so in the future, I should make a distinction.
My mum’s mother can sew pretty much anything – as long as she has the pattern. Improvising is not an option for her. I’m the opposite except when it comes to recipes. I’m not that good a cook that I’d dare change an ingredient here and another one there. Also, it’s about getting it right. If the recipe says pecan nuts then I will not use anything else and if halfway through it turns out that we’re out of vanilla extract then I might as well give up. It drives my mum mental, because she’s the kitchen rebel who breaks the rules on purpose. And that really annoys me, which is weird in a way, since there aren’t many things that I consider sacred.
But carrot cake just isn’t carrot cake without the right icing and preferably a little carrot drawn on top of every piece.
And the Caesar salad has very specific ingredients.
And you shouldn’t use dip sauce as regular sauce, because it’s dip sauce. It says so in the name.
And I could go on for hours.
I guess every generation focuses on not becoming their parents and by inclining towards the other extreme they inevitably become similar to their grandparents. At least in my family.
Which brings me to my other grandmother. She was born in a farm. (Actually, ¾ of my grandparents are originally from the countryside. Luckily they all moved to the capital and I consider myself a city girl through and through.) Anyway, my dad’s mother always knew that she wasn’t going to marry some country bloke and went to school in the city. As a young woman, she was mostly interested in beautiful clothes and partying.
And she’s still interested in fashion now. Her closets are full of stuff, but she keeps buying new things from her mail-order catalogues. I feel a bit sorry for her, because she gets all her information on the latest trends from these catalogues, the Estonian press, Sturm der Liebe and The Bold and the Beautiful. And she always loves to see what I’ve got from my latest shopping trip. When she saw the coat she said that purple seems to be the trend colour this season and that she has a great hat to go with it. And this is the one she meant.
I said to her, “I dunno, it might be a bit too feminine for this military-style coat…” She disagreed and said that nowadays they’re mixing all kinds of styles together. And well, she’s right.
Category:
My style,
Thoughts and ramblings
0
comments
Keira Knightley and James McAvoy by Adrian Green for Empire They are among a number of actors posing for photos that hint at their famous roles as a celebration of Empire Magazine’s 20th birthday.
I love her fringe and seriously, how adorable is this dress?
Funnily enough, I was just thinking about Atonement tonight. The film is one of the most beautiful films... ever. Yes, beautiful is exactly the right word. Every tiny bit of it: the filming locations, the score, the cinematography, the cast, the dialogue, the costumes…
Do you remember this little frock?
Stunning. Anyway, the film was brilliant and the book was so much better. Although that’s always the case, isn’t it? (No, wait, it isn’t. Dexter is the best show on television today, but Darkly Dreaming Dexter was a bit of a disappointment. For me, at least. I suppose I was expecting a shocking insight into the mind of a sympathetic sociopath, but it just wasn’t there.)
So yeah, I deeply recommend Atonement – both the book and its adaptation.
So yeah, I deeply recommend Atonement – both the book and its adaptation.
Now on a completely different subject. I took part in Rhianne’s photo swap (a wonderful idea, right? The photo swap itself, I mean. Although taking part was a pretty decent idea too.) and she herself happened to be my partner. I’ve received her film roll and am hoping to get the photos developed and uploaded on this blog by the end of the week. She’s already done that with mine, so you can check them out. They didn’t turn out as great as I hoped, but since I haven't used film in years this was quite an experiment. A very enjoyable one, I must say.
And the best is yet to come, because soon I’ll get to see her pictures which will obviously be amazing.
Category:
Celebrities,
Film,
Love the picture,
So beautiful I might cry,
That’s pretty,
Thoughts and ramblings
0
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I listened to Lily Allen’s last album again and aargh!, I just can’t help but love it. And her. I pride myself in not being a fangirl for anyone and not really having any idols either. I mean, we’re all human, no one’s perfect and we’re meant to kill our idols anyway.
But her songs are really good and I’m especially impressed by how relatable the lyrics are. Not pointless and repetitive, yet not so complicated that they spark debates amongst fans about what on Earth the artist meant.
Lily’s lyrics are simple, frank and witty. Because they are about everyday things and feelings, I’ve decided to dedicate some of them to people they’d be quite perfect for.
"Alfie "– to my brother. Even though this song written about Lily’s own sibling doesn’t exactly describe him. In fact, it possibly sounds even more like me than him. But still, this has been one of our songs for years because after all, he’s "my dear mon frère".
"Smile" – this is such a mean song that the person I’m thinking about when listening to it shall remain nameless.
"The Fear" – to the superficial side of me, as a reality check.
"Fuck You" – to all the people the song is originally intended to. Hate hate, everybody!
"Never Gonna Happen" – I haven’t got anyone specific to dedicate this one to right now, but these lyrics are brilliant. I’m almost hoping to find someone who just doesn’t get the message so that I can send him this song.
"Fag Hag" – to Kurt from Glee. Every episode I see makes me love him more. Not only is he clever and fabulous, but he’s a scheming backstabber inside. Please be my best friend!
Picures from dianabgoode.wordpress.com, buzzworthy.mtv.com, dailymail.co.uk, playgroundsfestival.nl, diary.ru/~glee-club
But her songs are really good and I’m especially impressed by how relatable the lyrics are. Not pointless and repetitive, yet not so complicated that they spark debates amongst fans about what on Earth the artist meant.
Lily’s lyrics are simple, frank and witty. Because they are about everyday things and feelings, I’ve decided to dedicate some of them to people they’d be quite perfect for.
"Alfie "– to my brother. Even though this song written about Lily’s own sibling doesn’t exactly describe him. In fact, it possibly sounds even more like me than him. But still, this has been one of our songs for years because after all, he’s "my dear mon frère".
"Smile" – this is such a mean song that the person I’m thinking about when listening to it shall remain nameless.
"The Fear" – to the superficial side of me, as a reality check.
"Fuck You" – to all the people the song is originally intended to. Hate hate, everybody!
"Never Gonna Happen" – I haven’t got anyone specific to dedicate this one to right now, but these lyrics are brilliant. I’m almost hoping to find someone who just doesn’t get the message so that I can send him this song.
"Fag Hag" – to Kurt from Glee. Every episode I see makes me love him more. Not only is he clever and fabulous, but he’s a scheming backstabber inside. Please be my best friend!
Picures from dianabgoode.wordpress.com, buzzworthy.mtv.com, dailymail.co.uk, playgroundsfestival.nl, diary.ru/~glee-club
Category:
Celebrities,
Glee,
Lists,
Song,
Thoughts and ramblings,
TV
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Everyone’s writing posts about what they’re thankful for, so I thought I’d give it a try too. I’ve only had one Thanksgiving dinner in my life (in 2001 in Salt Lake City. Our choir was representing Estonia in Voices of Friendship, a choir festival that was part of the Winter Olympics cultural programme) and I can’t remember the last time I took time to appreciate what I have. So here goes.
Firstly, I’m thankful for being able to take so many things in life granted. That didn’t come out right, did it? But what I mean is that there are so many things that I don’t have to worry about, so many great things that I have without even noticing.
My friends and time spent with them.
My annoying little brother who’s mean and rude and completely irreplaceable!
My iPhone. (What a shallow materialistic girl I am.) It was a graduation present from my parents and I’ve become completely dependant on it. It’s like having the whole world in my hand.
My flat in Tartu. It’s nothing special, but it enabled me to move away from home and start an independent life (read: stay up all night for no good reason).
Having been able to travel and see the world.
Good books and music.
Beautiful, vibrant colours.
Creativity and art.
And you for reading this little blog of mine. Thank you!
Pictures from fashiongonerogue.com (no. 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12), weheartit.com (no. 5), facebook.com (no. 1, 8)
Firstly, I’m thankful for being able to take so many things in life granted. That didn’t come out right, did it? But what I mean is that there are so many things that I don’t have to worry about, so many great things that I have without even noticing.
My friends and time spent with them.
My annoying little brother who’s mean and rude and completely irreplaceable!
My iPhone. (What a shallow materialistic girl I am.) It was a graduation present from my parents and I’ve become completely dependant on it. It’s like having the whole world in my hand.
My flat in Tartu. It’s nothing special, but it enabled me to move away from home and start an independent life (read: stay up all night for no good reason).
Having been able to travel and see the world.
Good books and music.
Beautiful, vibrant colours.
Creativity and art.
And you for reading this little blog of mine. Thank you!
Pictures from fashiongonerogue.com (no. 6, 7, 9, 10, 11, 12), weheartit.com (no. 5), facebook.com (no. 1, 8)
Category:
Lists,
Thoughts and ramblings
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Yes, I’m writing a new post already. Because why go to sleep when your eyes still stay open.
I looked at my drawing again. The eyes are a total FAIL, but other than that, I don’t hate it. As long as I don’t have the original next to it. Maybe I should start drawing again…
And then I have a look at Andrea Joseph’s sketchblog and realise that there is absolutely no point in picking up a pencil. Pictures like this and this and this (that one's really sick) make me feel really small and talentless. They remind me to stick to what I know. Snapping pictures, maybe? Not really. Writing, then. Or, wait, what am I actually good at? Checking out new TV shows online and then becoming completely obsessed with them? Yeah, I don’t mind sticking to that.
Good night(/morning).
I looked at my drawing again. The eyes are a total FAIL, but other than that, I don’t hate it. As long as I don’t have the original next to it. Maybe I should start drawing again…
And then I have a look at Andrea Joseph’s sketchblog and realise that there is absolutely no point in picking up a pencil. Pictures like this and this and this (that one's really sick) make me feel really small and talentless. They remind me to stick to what I know. Snapping pictures, maybe? Not really. Writing, then. Or, wait, what am I actually good at? Checking out new TV shows online and then becoming completely obsessed with them? Yeah, I don’t mind sticking to that.
Good night(/morning).
Category:
Thoughts and ramblings
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comments
I did a bit of drawing tonight. I used to love it when I was a child. I’d be happy sitting alone in my room if I had my pencils and papers. I drew people while making up stories about them in my head. Most of them were fairytales that included a heroine, mean girls standing in her way to true happiness, a perfect guy she'd have a happy ending with, and parties and balls (so I could draw the gowns).
But lately I haven’t drawn almost anything and certainly nothing that I wasn’t obliged to do. I realised this last night, and today I got my art supplies out. And a couple of minutes later I remembered why I don’t do this anymore.
It’s because I’m a neurotic perfectionist and as an artist – far from perfect. Every little line or dot that’s doesn’t look right annoys me immensely. I prefer realistic art and since I can’t possibly make my drawing look exactly like the real object, I always get frustrated and want to give up. When I look at someone else’s work I tend to see it as a whole, but in my own things all I can see are the numerous inaccurate details that ruin it all for me.
But I was determined to finish a drawing tonight, and managed to do it in the third try. (The first two looked awful, I will not show them to anyone.) I'm not thoroughly happy with this one either, but then again, I never am.
Here’s the picture (and bear in mind that I don’t have much experience in this and have never had any training):
I almost didn’t show you the original photo, so that you wouldn’t see all the deviations, but all right then: 
Picture from fashiongonerogue.com 
But lately I haven’t drawn almost anything and certainly nothing that I wasn’t obliged to do. I realised this last night, and today I got my art supplies out. And a couple of minutes later I remembered why I don’t do this anymore.
It’s because I’m a neurotic perfectionist and as an artist – far from perfect. Every little line or dot that’s doesn’t look right annoys me immensely. I prefer realistic art and since I can’t possibly make my drawing look exactly like the real object, I always get frustrated and want to give up. When I look at someone else’s work I tend to see it as a whole, but in my own things all I can see are the numerous inaccurate details that ruin it all for me.
But I was determined to finish a drawing tonight, and managed to do it in the third try. (The first two looked awful, I will not show them to anyone.) I'm not thoroughly happy with this one either, but then again, I never am.
Here’s the picture (and bear in mind that I don’t have much experience in this and have never had any training):
I almost didn’t show you the original photo, so that you wouldn’t see all the deviations, but all right then: 
Picture from fashiongonerogue.com 
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