Sweat, Biscuits and Professional Flats in Manchester

Hi there.

What have I been up to?
Well, mostly I've been at lectures. Aside from that, I've also started this diet that involves me spending 2 hours at the gym every weekday and has got me eating more cous-cous and cottage cheese than I ever imagined I would in my entire life. Oh, the things one will do to make themselves look good.
It's actually really boring, constantly counting calories, mentally telling yourself off from having that extra glass of wine or that forbidden chocolate biscuit. Then there's the gym itself, which is way too hot and always smells of sweat. The fitness instructors are all way too physically perfect and obviously smug about it, and treat you like pitiful idiots because you've come crawling to them for help. The people in the gym are nearly always too thin to be there - hardly any 'real', fat and ugly people like me who actually need to be there - they're all thin and beautiful or muscled and handsome. Sometimes they're so muscly they look quite grotesque, but they still carry themselves with an air of smug superiority that makes you look at yourself and think "I'm not worthy enough to be around you, I'm made of more than 20% fat."

So there I am sweating and suffering away on the treadmills and the weight machines, and at the same time I'm looking for a place to live next year. It wasn't planned, I hasten to add. I was supposed to be living in a flat with one of my physics friends who was determined to stay put next year, but that went a bit wrong because a new girl came in wanting to move in with us. It's proving to be not fun at all.
Problem is, the two other girls have standards that are way too high for student houses. It's completely normal for student houses to be smelly and to be falling apart from the inside out. However, they don't seem to get this, and it's kind of irritating when we view somewhere that would otherwise have been ok if it wasn't for the fact it "Smelt like wet dog".
Don't get we wrong, I'm not regretting this. Not anymore, anyway- we're on a waiting list now for first viewings of nice, plush but inexpensive flats in Central Salford (the sort-of nice part near the Uni), so hopefully it'll end up ok. Either that, or I'll end up in halls again wanting to kill myself like I have been this year, throughout all the house parties, sleepless nights and fridge-raids.

Also, before I go, I want to send out my best wishes to people in Japan. I don't normally do this sort of thing, but after seeing some of the awful pictures coming out from there of the tsunami and the quake, my heart really goes out to them. Just goes to show that Geography is a complete bastard sometimes.

RE: Living in a Zoo

Something rather unexpected but wonderful happened not long ago in this flat.

Me and the two normal flat mates finally cracked and came together to discuss what was to be done. At first we decided on a flat meeting, but nobody was around at the time, so we resorted to messaging everyone privately in Facebook with our demands. This didn't go so well, as I ended up having a bit of an argument with Hannah about her music volume.

Her friend decided it would be best to have a chat about it all, which we did once with her before she went and picked up Hannah from work. This went from sensible and mature to a complete mess in about half an hour, with her constantly defending Hannah's actions. We then had the long, dreaded wait for herself to arrive, which was probably the most nerve wracking half an hour I've experienced recently. I was totally expecting Hannah to be abusive and unreasonable.

The result? We all sat down and discussed our problems openly like mature adults. Music is now to be turned down at midnight, people will pay for stuff they've broken and there is to be an atmosphere of mutual respect and consideration for others at all times (which means asking if it's ok if they can have a party). Whether it'll stay that way is something different altogether, but I'm just happy there was no shouting about what we discussed.

I can go to bed happy. Mentally exhausted, but happy. Night night :)

Living in a Zoo

One of the major changes for me this year has been living accommodation. I moved from the condemned tower block that I used to live in into a shiny new ground floor flat slightly further away. Leather sofas, en-suite rooms, all around 90 pounds a week.

Very swish, you might say.

Shame about my flat-mates.

I live with 5 other people, one of which I was with last year, who was very nice and was probably quite a good friend to me. Two of them are fairly normal people, considerate and quiet. The other two however, are the flatmates from hell. One of them in particular, a fat, fake tanned, heavily made-up, self-important specimin called Hannah (or Hannorrr to her friends) has succeeded in making mine and the other two normal people's lives hell over the past 6 months.

She plays her music too loud at night, she screams through the walls at her friends, she throws house parties without asking anyone else if it's ok and then doesn't clean up. She even bullies the other normal people by opening her door and playing music in their direction, dumping rubbish outside their door and writing threatening messages to them. She doesn't do those things to me, though, possibly because I don't figure enough in the flat community for her to bother with. I always get the brunt of her loud music and screaming, though, because I'm in the room next to her.She blames mess in the kitchen on us 3 normal people, when I suspect she's responsible for it. In contrast, though, her room is spotless.

Her friend follows her around like a puppy, buying all her food for her, driving her everywhere and doing whatever else she wants. When those two get together, it sounds like the monkey enclosure at London Zoo. My flatmate from last year has also become her bitch, because he doesn't do anything for himself anymore - he has almost no substance to him whatsoever now, and doesn't stick up for me or even hang around with me anymore. What a let-down.

We've probably lost our deposit on the place, and are probably going to be charged well over that for the damage that the house parties have caused to various things in the kitchen/living room. It seems every time there is one, something gets wrecked and then hurriedly replaced or just left broken.

I personally have never attended a single one of these parties, because a: piss-ups bore me to tears, and b: I'm frankly scared to, and feel like I'm not invited (even though it's my flat too). Every time a party happens, I run and hide at my boyfriends for the night and return to see the carnage the next morning.

Now I know I'm not a typical student, as I said before. I don't like wild parties or the student lifestyle - I'd rather be tucked up in bed with my Xbox or snuggled up on the sofa watching a film with my boyfriend. I live a quiet existence. I know, however, that this behavior that I dread coming back to the flat for, isn't normal either. It's downright antisocial.

I'd love to be able to complain to my accommodation, say that it's all those 3 who trash the place and that it's driving me to depression living with them and I want them kicked out, but that would probably the last thing I ever did. Hannah is unfortunately the kind of girl who would probably make my life even worse if I did something she didn't like. She'd probably sit on me.

Instead, I know I'm condemned to stay here for 4 more months, locked in my room between seeing people and going to classes. I feel like I'm living in a zoo.

On the upside, though, I've found somewhere nice and quiet to live next year, with someone who is just as quiet and normal as me. Also, I'm always guaranteed a flight home to see my parents, and always welcome to stay at my lovely boyfriend's house on weekends.

There is a happy ending to this story :)