University Is A Waste of Time - According to Rich Middle-Class Men

In a press release commissioned by 50 Year Old Men this morning, it has been decided that not attending University is number one in the League Tables this year - beating the infamous university 'Oxbridge' by a measly 87 points, and the University of Procrastination by 88 points.

The 50 Year Old Men, who prefer to be referred to as 'Bitter,' declared that studying Life is the most sought after qualification amongst those striving to count money. 

Mr Sour, who is head of university tuition, revealed that degrees don't in fact matter. However he insists on supporting students in reaching their final year of study, to ensure that their bank accounts are going into the maximum amount of debt.

Dan, a student from Northampton,
 showing his results.
From his steroids.

Following this, what with the recent A-Level Results day, proud parents all over the country are rolling around on the floor after the realisation their children have achieved what they didn't, and are beginning university. A father of a disabled ethnic minority (ethnicity disclosed), cried and snot-bubbled on my shoulder as he spoke about the moment his son (or daughter) found out that he (or she) had gained a place at Cardiff University (or Cardiff Met).

"These are not tears of pride I am crying. I was saving this money for a new AGA."

However, students across the country (or  countries? Are we one country? Or a collection of countries that form a nation?) were highly disappointed with their results. Penelope from Surrey wrote to me via fax, explaining that she will be demanding that her A A A* grades are to be remarked.

"Mummy agreed that if I was predicted A* A* A* then that is what I should have given me, otherwise Mummy wants her money back."

This response was not uncommon amongst students and The Daily Mail said that those who did not receive the grades that they were predicted are 67% more likely to get cancer, whilst the majority of those who got their first choice of university are morbidly obese. 

On results night, youths took to the streets between approximately 10pm and 1am causing great distress to nearby residents, with the disruption being comparable to that of the 2010 London riots. Empty cans of fig and elderflower flavoured cider were found littered sporadically in many city centres, whilst half full WKD bottles were found in numerous bus stops, causing great danger to young children and the elderly who may mistake it for their milk. 

Many of these students maintained the annual tradition of levitation after opening their A-Level results.

Meanwhile, many students who did gain a place at university, have expressed their excitement for the next three, or four, or seventeen years of even more education. An online Facebook Forum for a group of first year students at Bo Peep University shared this excitement, declaring that they are definitely friends for life. Discussion about family gym memberships, and joint shopping trips fuel their online conversations, with one student tweeting this morning:

Can't wait to meet my housemates today! Then house hunting with them tomorrow for our 2nd year family house! #WeRFamily

50 Year Old Men will begin the first of six debates at the WhetherForks tomorrow regarding whether to issue a rise in fees at the University of Life, or to abolish the monarchy instead. 

There's a Hole in My Bucket (not a euphemism)

I've got piles...

...of things I need/must/should/want to do. 

Symptoms of procrastination in a lengthy time of frustration ultimately leads me to the most treacherous of sites. 
The 'I-hate-admitting-I-spend-my-evening-mindlessly-scrolling-on-here' website; Buzzfeed. I could slag it off like it's the Daily Mail's dirty fling on the side but it is undeniably a fantastic time filler.

Yet as I sit here in my hospital bedroom, as bored as a pineapple during winter, with zilch to do and nowhere to go, I find myself veering off from one of Buzzfeed's classic '19 Beaches In America You Must Visit' posts, becoming more annoyed at being stuck in a rut. I'm forever daydreaming (and googling) about these places that I should be going to, things that I need to experience, to own, to eat, to buy, to visit, to snort, to drink, to rescue, to photograph, to destroy, before I die. Social media, as unavoidable as it is, drugs me up on envy; my news feed is on a constant cycle of picture perfect, jam-packed summer posts. - Probably not helped by having a silly amount of faux friends. Nor the instagram filters making anything look ten times nicer.

Of course, every time I'm left with itchy feet. (Ew feet). And no direction. (Not even a Harry Styles or Zayn Malik).

Don't get me wrong, having aims and plans are a big kick up my pancake arse for recovery. But the in-between time is like a 4 hour queue for Oblivion at Alton Towers. But worse. Much worse. And you don't even know if you'll be allowed on the ride by the time you get to it. So to pass the time, I look at more things I could be doing. AKA, more things I'm missing out on.


I take out my frustration onto other people (sincerest apologies mum), and can easily get carried away into moaning or catapulting the blame onto everybody else. Yet ultimately, I spend the majority of my time frothing up my mind like the foam left in a cappuccino. 
This is, apparently, my favourite hobby; beating myself up. Yes I have made fuck ups. I've allowed my kitchen utensil brain to over whisk the meringue. I've screwed over so many friendships, missed out on holidays, deferred university, etc. etc. moan moan moan, blah blah blah black sheep.  But continuing to just get angry at myself for these things for happening, will achieve nothing. Nada. I can add to my bucket list until it reaches the top of that ugly skyscraper in Brighton, but the whiff of the dog turd at the bottom still lingers to the top. Nobody likes the smell of poo. 


I guess this is just a reminder; stop dwelling on the past. Don't let the shitstorm of the past cloud over into the present. It's all hippie-dippie stuff, this 'here and now,' 'peace and love' babble, but hippies always seem so zen (love that word), so I suppose they must be doing something right! Or am I just being naive and need to accept that cannabis is the answer and sort myself out with a hefty joint? (Kidding mum...)
I'll try to keep to my word and stop feeling sorry for myself, but we shall see how things pan(cake) out...

Time to be a whisk taker and just whip it. Whip it real good. 

Later alligators x 

Udderly Sensational!

Udderly Sensational,
‘Animal Farm’ is a Roaring Success!

A review? Since when had I become an uptight, glasses at the end of my nose critic?! Seeing as my posts are usually rather moany, it's about time I post something that's actually positive! Being a member of Act One Drama Society at Cardiff University, you may presume that I'd be bias but nuh uh. After watching Act One's production of 'Animal Farm' at Llanover Hall it mooooo-ved me so much that I simply had to share my enthusiasm with you all. 

Animal Farm is by no means a simple play to stage; an absolute classic piece of literature, this politically charged story requires a great deal of creativity, commitment and character. Having read (and loved) the book, yet never seeing a stage production of it, I was intrigued to see how this challenging show has been adapted.

To say that this play exceeded my expectations is an understatement. Martin Newman, the director, has produced a masterpiece of theatre. While Animal Farm was George Orwell's response to his disillusionment with Communism, the play speaks to any dictatorial form of government (and with so many pigs in the play, one can’t help but think of our dear David Cameron). 

Overthrowing their cruel master, the animals of Manor Farm collectively begin to run the farm themselves.

The play is driven by an incredible ensemble; their dynamic and bond on stage is enchanting and their ability to embody their animal’s characteristics strengthens this sense of unity and integrity on stage. Yet, although it is very much a collective piece, each character sparks their own individuality, all distinguishable by their well-crafted characterisation. The three pigs take authority over the animals and the farm, and each performer exuded tenacity and confidence on stage – grunting at audience members was particularly terrifying!

 The movement on stage was remarkable; Lucy Spain has done an incredible job of choreographing the play by incorporating physical theatre both in discreet, ingenious moments but also the pinnacle moments. Violence, pain, aggression and defeat are all spoken through the casts’ movement, from throwing one another across the stage to building human pyramids, the audience were undoubtedly stuck to their seats.

I could write an entire blog about each individual performer but we may be here sometime. I am not surprised that this show has sold out and it is such a shame that there were only four performances! From the extraordinarily constructed set of rags, to the imaginative use of floor lighting, to the astounding costumes and face paint, I truly felt as though I was watching a professional production, not an amateur one.

Martin Newman has more than succeeded in producing a fantastic show. The best production that I have seen this year, left lost for words by the end of the play, goose bumps galore, I cannot comment the cast, crew and director enough for this absolute triumph. I sincerely hope that Martin Newman continues to create such phenomenal showpieces, there is a career destined for him.

*Round of a-paws*

And if you missed out on tickets? Gutted. Like a fish. 

Inny or an Outy?

 Why is it even called a 'belly button'? Nothing happens when I press mine?! It sure is no remote control or dominoes deliverer. However that would make for a pretty cool super power...

But fear not belly button phobics! This blog post isn't debating whether sticky-out belly buttons are superior to inny belly buttons.
No this is about introverts and extroverts.
Or in my case, a bit of both?

When I was younger I used to be super loud and hyper and annoying. The kind of girl who would be walking down the school corridor and spontaneously enact a scene from The Exorcist and finish by doing a rolypoly. 
Now, okay I am still those things.. at times, (especially annoying) but over the past few years I have sort of become more hedgehog-esque.

A prick?! No, no, no (well, I hope not?!) No, I have resulted to hibernating, frequently curling in on myself.
Social anxiety has pooed all over the outgoing side of me, and now I have a constant between wanting to do everything & anything with anyone and not wanting to leave my phenomenally uncomfortable bed all day. 
Trying to define myself as either extrovert or an introvert is stupid, I am neither.
I think perhaps an extroverted introvert with introverted extrovert tendencies is a more applicable label for me. Or as some may say 'ambivert' but that's not as fun to say.

I don't know if being either is a good or bad thing, who really cares?
But I have been more aware of it over the past couple of months and have been taking note of some struggles, (literally - I have a cute little notepad that I carry around with my like the sad, wannabe-writer I am) and this is what I found.

1. One half of me genuinely loves being alone but the other half is incredibly needy and cries out for attention.

"Love me, hug me, stroke me, talk to me, notice me, why are you ignoring me, am I annoying? Because I am annoying myself."

2. I will spend ages thinking about what I am going to say but then say something stupidly ridiculous and regret it instantly.

"No really, I think it was good that he dumped you."

I'm naturally talkative and LOTS to say, but when it comes to it, I'm having most of the conversation in my head. Not ideal.

3. Being at a party it can all feel like toooooo much effort but if I don't go or leave early, I end up feeling like I'm missing out. 

4. I take it really personally when I'm not invited to something but I probably wouldn't have gone anyway. Feel free to address me by Molly 'Flake' Wyatt. 

5. I'll sometimes go out of my way to avoid speaking to a friend but a conversation with a stranger on a train comes is much easier.
(Not strangers on trains specifically, just strangers in general, sort of, to an extent. Oh dear.)

6. I can actually (believe it or not) be the life of the party but I need time to 'warm up'. *Does ten star jumps and lunges into starting position.* And when I have a good time, I reeaaaally have a good time. It feels uh-may-zing.

7. I constantly have an itch to be with others but my so-called 'brain' starts over-thinking and I end up too anxious so avoid it all together. Nice one Molly. 

8. However, I SUCK at replying to texts, it's nothing personal, I just don't want to talk to anybody, but if somebody doesn't reply to me within 3 minutes, I find myself scanning my brain for all the things I could have done wrong to piss them off.

9. I live in my head but I can really put myself out there.
Basically my head is a cloud.
I know it sounds strange, (as does 98% of my jibber jabber), but it was in a rehearsal for a play that I realised this. For the a good seven tenths of a six hour rehearsal, I can sit just in my own quiet little bubble (I'm pretty sure the cast must forget that I am even there) perfectly content. And then I can leap onto stage like the elegant gazelle that I am (KIDDING) and suddenly feel like I have drunk eighteen cans of Monster.

10. I'm probably at my happiest in a busy place but kept by myself.
Okay so I love to sit in a hectic coffee shop and people watch. Yes, I am that person.

11. My personal hell is being forced to a party when I'm desperado to be alone.

12. I seem rather anti-social but I like to think of it as 'selectively social.' (So if I am arranging something with you, you should feel privileged... or very scared.)

13. (Ending on an unlucky number because I am unlucky in love...)
I am truly terrible at dating, hence being a twenty year old who has never had a boyfriend. I don't even think this is relevant to being an introvert extrovert but I am watching The Undateables feeling very sorry for myself. Hashtag Forever Alone. Hashtag Sorry for a Lackluster Blog Post.

Until next time,
ADIOS AMIGOS! 
*whispers* Now please may you leave me and myself alone, and shut the door on your way out.