Fried Egg in a Bacon Sandwich

In 2010 I was just finding my feet. I’d turned 16 but I was a little behind really. I was still very shy and I was scared of absolutely everything. Everything except singing, which I actually did more then, than I do now. Of course, I had no idea that my fear of life would actually be labelled as an anxiety disorder years later.

I had 11 New Year’s resolutions at the start of 2011. Number 1 was predictable and embarrassing: To find love. *rolls eyes* Moving onwards, I resolved to get better at maths and did. I said I’d get organised and didn’t. I vowed to smile more and worry less. I pledged to Be More Daring.

I went to a house party on New Year’s Eve. I had to write a pros and cons list just to decide whether to go or not. I remember some of the cons so clearly even now. I was staying the night and I was worried my pyjamas were an embarrassment. I didn’t know whether I wanted to drink alcohol and I didn’t know if it would be a big deal if I didn’t. I felt insecure in the outfit I had to wear but didn’t have anything else. I was worried I’d get too tired before midnight and wouldn’t be able to get home. I was worried I hadn’t eaten enough because of the nerves.

Last in the pros column, after ‘it will be fun’ and all other obvious reasons to party on New Year’s  Eve, was ‘you said you’d be daring this year’.

I had the best night. I’m still very good friends with the girl who hosted. Her mum offered me a bacon sandwich when I got up New Years Day and offered me a fried egg to go in it too. I’d never tried having egg in a bacon sandwich before and silly as it sounds, going to her party and adding egg to my bacon sandwich were the first daring things I did that year.

Being daring that year was the best thing I ever decided to do. Unknowingly I put a middle finger up to my anxiety. I grew in confidence, I tried new things (including my first shot of vodka), I made new friends, I did in fact find love and from what I remember I smiled, a lot. When I would normally have said no, I said yes. It was perhaps the best year of my life so far, but with only 22 down I guess that’s not saying much.

Two days until it’s 2017.

I think perhaps this year’s a year for being daring again. This year I’m going to take a leaf out of my younger self’s book. I’m going to dare to be myself at all times. I’m going to dare to sing on stage again. I’m going to dare to do exactly what makes me happy. I’m going to dare to live.

I had egg in my bacon sandwich this morning. Loved it.

Hippo-size and Happy

I should be the size of a hippo after eating everything I’ve eaten this week. I blame Papa Johns for tempting me with their 99p offer Tuesday night and Just Eat for making it so easy to order Chinese take away when you get home late on a Wednesday evening. My comfort food has become the occasional piece of healthy food I eat. The orange I ate after my Chinese takeaway for example, was so beautiful I think the vitamin C loving bits of me jumped for joy.

On Sunday night, this week terrified me. Now I’m sat on my bed, thinking about what I’m going to wear out tonight, surrounded by laundry that I discovered dries quickly hanging from the open sky lights in my room, procrastinating expertly and wondering what all the fuss was about. I’ve spent the afternoon curled up on the sofa drinking tea, reading the book on British History that I have become slightly addicted to and feeling productive despite the fact the book I was supposed to read today was based on the Dreyfus Affair in France.

I didn’t get into either the Opera or the Operatic Society concert. The audition went surprisingly well considering how ill I’d felt the day before. Expecting it to be a complete disaster I was pleased when I left and I had managed to at least sing the whole piece. Monday evening, after the audition when I met one of my best friends for coffee, I was feeling positive. Aside from managing to sing my piece, I’d spent a few hours in the library covering the reading for the lecture Tuesday morning and I’d been to my first music lecture of the year with out freaking out.

Tuesday, I think, was the best day. I may have had to get up at 7:30 for a lecture that exhausted my brain because it lasted an hour and a half, but I finished the day with 99 pence meat feast pizza, my first Chinese class and a night out. Chinese was brilliant. By the end of the lesson I was ridiculously excited about the fact I could say Chinese numbers 1-10, say hello, goodbye and thank you, tell someone my name is Bronwen and I am British and ask their name and nationality in return. Me and my flatmate spent the entirety of the walk home having the same conversation in Chinese over and over again. The night out was good, as they always seem to be, but the early start had got the better of me and I was home and tucked up in bed by two in the morning with McDonald’s chicken nuggets in my belly and a whopping great smile on my face.

After my lecture Wednesday morning (which i was very happy I made it out of bed and in to) I went job hunting again. When I went to hand a CV into The Entertainer Toy Shop they wouldn’t take it. They said they had finished hiring for the Christmas period already, but told me to wait a moment so they could double check. I ended up in a group interview for two hours having much more fun than I would have expected to have in an interview. I was completely unprepared, but the staff all seemed friendly and welcoming and the spontaneity of it all meant my butterflies didn’t make even a brief appearance. They said they’d call me on Friday if they wanted me to attend the Christmas meeting and work with them over the season and on Friday I got a call. If everything goes well at the meeting I can consider myself employed. I am trying me very hardest not to jinx things by mentioning how excited I am about the idea of working at a Toy Shop over Christmas helping children choose what they want from Santa, but I AM SO EXCITED. Yes, Santa is real.

The rest of the week has been just as amazing. I had a lecture on Chinese history which I know I’m going to become geekishly interested in. I wore my jelly bean wellies out the house and successfully resisted the urge to jump in puddles or sing ‘Singing in the Rain’ whilst spinning my umbrella. I planned on heading out last night but at the last minute chose to curl up with chicken, chips, an awesome friend and a disney movie instead of heading to the club. Tonight I am going out and I’ve spent so long trying to decide what to wear that I’m starting to wonder if I actually own nice clothes. Tomorrow I’m spending the day with my head in a book again, hopefully the right one this time.

I’m not an opera star just yet, but I am a Toy Shop sales assistant and I have conquered a week of lectures and loved it. I’m a happy Bronwen.

Missing Beechams’ Cold Medicine, Loving Crunchy Nut cereal

Had I written this just 24 hours ago it would have been filled with complaints. I would have ranted about the fact I woke up with a horrendous cold and went on to have a horrendous day: I broke a glass when I was washing up, I found loads of important unread emails from my university, the internet kept crashing while I was trying to send replies, I nearly blew up the kitchen because I didn’t realise there was oil in the bottom of the oven when I turned it on and let it heat up to 200 degrees Celsius… Ok, so the day could have been much worse, but with a runny nose and a head that felt the size of Jupiter I found myself curled up in bed with a sad face on wanting to do absolutely nothing except perhaps head back to Chelmsford and curl up there with a cup of tea and my family.

My cold ridden self did however manage to book herself an audition for Cardiff University’s opera this semester and did manage to reply to emails despite the lack of internet connection. The audition is Monday evening and I’m… I’m not saying I’m terrified, not if admitting that means risking the return of butterflies just as I’m enjoying a beautiful and much needed bowl of Crunchy Nut cereal.

Once I’d had dinner I started to feel slightly better and my amazing friend gave me a glass of wine and convinced me out of the house and into a night club for the night. (My decision may have also been influenced by the fact it was ‘Propaganda’s Giveaway Party’ and they claimed to be handing out Nandos vouchers.) I had an amazing night, forgot all about my nose and my head, bought McDonald’s at the end of it and still made it out of bed and to enrolment this morning. Despite the fact I felt a little nervous when my alarm went off and I realised it was time to head into the music department for the first time this semester, once I was up and about I was surprisingly calm. By the time I was walking towards the university I was on a high just because I’d conquered step one: Get out of bed and make it out the front door by nine. Enrolment was much simpler than it was first year. Maybe because there was less to do, or maybe just because i was better prepared and less scared.

My cold is back to haunt me this afternoon, the Tesco near me aren’t selling the Beechams’ cold medicine that until now I haven’t made it through a cold with out and the audition is on Monday but my throat hurts and my cough doesn’t seem as if it will be going away anytime soon. I’m eating a late breakfast and I’ve drank more orange juice than is healthy, I’ll spend the rest of the day keeping warm and maybe cook something hot and spicy tonight. I’ll speak through my audition piece later; running through pronunciation doesn’t require a healthy throat. If I wake up with a voice as low as a man’s and as croaky as a frog’s tomorrow morning then perhaps I will panic, until then I know I have three days still left to recover before my audition, I can spend all day in bed tomorrow if I want to and I’m feeling positive.

Singing goodbye to butterflies in the shower

Caught myself singing in the shower, wondered ’round with a towel turban on my head, left my stuff all over the sofa while I went out last night, sung opera in my bedroom, let my iTunes music shuffle freely without cringing when The Circle of Life started playing: One week here and it feels like home already.

As a fresher, I’d sit and read my book on my bed in my room, or perhaps on one of the hard chairs around the communal table in our kitchen. And don’t get me wrong, I loved our kitchen for all the amazing moments we shared and memories we created there. Right now though, I’m sat on an actual sofa, curled up among the cushions reading my book with a cuppa tea and loving life.

As soon as I wake up in the morning I come downstairs in my pyjamas. My bedroom door here is almost always open and so are everyone else’s. Heading out in the evenings is easy now we know where to head and on which nights. I can cook without embarrassing myself by asking silly questions, dropping things or burning myself. I know the quickest route into town and into University and back, and I didn’t have to try three different routes to find the best. This year I’m applying for jobs and even now I’m paying bills student budgeting doesn’t seem like such a scary concept.

Life as a second year student so far has been so incredibly different to life as a fresher. I feel so much more comfortable living with my friends, in a beautiful city that I now know and love.

We may still be lacking internet and our washing machine may be broken, but the butterflies that lived in my stomach permanently last year seem to have temporarily fallen asleep this year already. Who would have thought it!? Now to conquer the world.

Time to step in at the deep end

The car is all packed up and it is time to go. First year I jumped in at the deep end (heading all the way to Cardiff to study before I even felt ready) and then spent the year doggy paddling and treading water. This year I’m going to step in to the deep end, keep my head above the water and swim. That’s if I don’t sissy out and use the steps like I did so many times on our family holiday this year… In my defense the water felt freezing after an hour or so spent reading in the sunshine and jumping in was quite a shock to the system.

Packing was an even bigger hassle than the first time ’round. If it’s possible, I think I’m even more unorganised now than I was this time last year. Most things are chucked in the car individually and if not they are in random boxes: There really is no method to the madness.

I’m so excited I can’t stay sitting down for longer than two seconds and I haven’t stopped smiling all morning and yet so scared that the butterflies in my stomach won’t rest either. I’m putting the fact I don’t feel like eating down to the amazing night I had last night, for an amazing friend’s 20th birthday. Despite the fact going out the night before heading back to University may not have been the best idea I’ve ever had, last night was the perfect way to say goodbye to Chelmsford and to all of my friends until Christmas. Anyway, sleep in the car should get rid of the bags under my eyes and lack of appetite shouldn’t be a problem for long: I have never successfully resisted purchasing food or coffee at a motorway services before now so I am sure by the time we stop for lunch I’ll be happy to eat as much as is Bronwenly possible.

Now, to stop using my blog as an excuse, shut the laptop, get in the car and choose the best song to start the journey with (something I love and my dad can grin and bear). In roughly four hours time I should be collecting my keys from the letting agency and heading into my new flat. Here goes.

Two days till Take Two

Just two more days left in Chelmsford and I am the weirdest mix of scared and excited.

Part of me wants to ring Cardiff University and tell them I won’t be studying there this year after all because I’m sissying out and I’d like to stay home. I want to cry every time I consider saying another temporary goodbye to my friends and family. I feel like I’m sixteen again and all I should be doing is spending time with friends at the park, going to Smirnoff Ice house parties and worrying about GCSE results . When I imagine waking up in my new room in Cardiff Sunday morning I want to run up to bed, hide under the duvet and never come out. I can hope that the next two days go slowly, but I doubt I’ll have much luck: The next two days I am so busy seeing friends, shopping and packing that I might as well be going to Cardiff in an hour or so.

The other part of me keeps telling everyone who asks just how much I am looking forward to going back to Cardiff and how I cannot wait for the fresh start. This part isn’t lying either, there is a part of me (quite a big part of me) that is exploding with enthusiasm. I cannot wait to unpack and decorate my new room, to go out in Cardiff with friends I haven’t seen in ages, to experience my first university house parties, to get a job, even to sit surrounded by books in the library studying a brand new and hopefully interesting topic. I may be sad summer is over, but I was admittedly a little excited when I had to pull a jumper out of my wardrobe to wear yesterday and even when I left the house with an umbrella.

How one Bronwen can feel so scared and so excited all at one time baffles me.