"And what if I lose everything?" "Well, you'll still have me."

I know I've mentioned it before, but every so often I have a little moment of self-realisation and I'm reminded of just how lucky I am to have such a brilliant support system around me. When things get tough, and chocolate isn't available, I turn to those I'm closest too and I'm really blessed that within 10 minutes, the people I've just cried down the phone too have formulated a plan to boost my spirits.

I don't get upset often and I rarely cry. In fact I don't show a lot of emotion...ever, so when I do, it's a miracle. However, the past 2 weeks have been a blur of tears, headaches, sleepless nights, hungry days and Coldplay songs and I'm not ashamed to admit that I got sucked into the horrible pit of sadness that I usually only allow myself to wallow in for a few minutes everytime it comes a'knocking. Sometimes wallowing is the only solution...I mean, although it's tragic, there's nothing better than a night in with the Gilmore Girls and my two favourite men: Ben and Jerry.What I'm trying to say is that when I do allow myself to wallow, my friend's know that the metaphorical crap has really and truly hit the fan. 

So tonight, in an attempt to forget the past 2 horrific weeks, I'm going to let my hair down at a Charlie Simpson gig in my 2nd favourite city in the world: Brighton. Not much else could make that situation better, but I'm luckily going with one of my best girlfriends, Raychel. Happy times. This means I'm in for a night of socially unacceptable conversation, Nandos (mmm) and taking the casual 'perving' on hot guys to a whole new level where it becomes so far from casual, it hurts. I can't wait.

I'm not a big fan of Charlie Simpson, I was never into Busted (I was more of an ABBA girl when I was little) at the age of 7, but I am obsessed with some of his lyrics from his new album and for that reason alone, I'm happy to spend 3 hours surrounded by 13 year old girls begging him to play 'Year 3000'. The fact that he is ABSOLUTELY gorgeous is just an added bonus...

Although every single one of my friend's have been amazing recently (they are usually pretty ace, but I've just realised that more over the last couple of weeks), this is a special shout out to my crazy chick, Raychel.

Here's to tonight: too much chicken, unlimited Pepsi refills, turning an innocent look at a guy into something that could get us arrested for sexual harrassment, being surrounded by people who you spiritually belong with (let's face it, what other 21 year old likes One Direction?...need I say more?), singing along to cheesy pop songs at the top of our voices, lots of inappropriate humour, photos galore and sighs of "Oh Vick, I want to marry him" everytime you look at our boy, Charlie. 

I hope whatever you guys are upto this evening, you have fun and enjoy yourselves :) happy Friday xxx

 "I really, really, really, really, really like you. Right now, I think I like cheesy chips more but you're a close second. I mean, I really like you."

Last night, I was laying in bed, slightly tipsy after spending the night drinking my emotions away (I had 2 glasses of wine...I don't have many emotions and I'm a really cheap date) when I got a phone call. It was 2am, I was attempting to brave the Arctic conditions my bedroom seems to have acquired since my radiator broke and the last thing I was expecting was a phone call. I mean, it's 2am? Seriously...

The phone call mainly consisted of a very drunk person rambling about nothing but cheesy chips, more alcohol and how cold it was and truth be told, I wasn't paying much attention. Not because I wasn't interested in the conversation, but because the person was making very little sense. However, about 3 minutes into the conversation, I heard something that made perfect sense.
(Let it be known that I'm an absolute sucker for a drunken text/Facebook message/phone call. After a few drinks, I'm usually the one sending them/cringing in the morning when I realise that I've accidentally text my Mum something quite inappropriate.)

Here I was, freezing my bum off at 2.14 in the morning, listening to this drunk person confess their feelings towards me and I'm not even going to lie, I loved every single moment of it. Even if I did come second to a portion of cheesy chips. It's nice to know somebody is thinking of you whilst they drink their body weight in alcohol.
Hearing those words drunkenly slurred into the phone was kind of lovely, in all honesty, but I'm left a bit confused now the alcohol isn't part of the picture. How do we handle this kind of thing in the morning?

There's that saying: "drunken words are sober thoughts", but what if the words were just spurred on by the 5th pint this person had quite obviously enjoyed? I mean, I have no reason to not trust alcohol (apart from that horrible moment we shared when it had me throwing up in my friend's kitchen and getting a Halloween party shut down) but I'm a little bit dubious as to whether I should put my faith in it right now.

I was the (slightly) sober one in this instance but why do I feel like I should regret hearing those words? Do I address what was said or do I leave it and when the night comes up in conversation, shall I skip past that sentence being mentioned and jokily taunt this person with embarrassing stories about confessing their love for a takeaway food?

I'll tell you something for nothing, I don't know how this person is feeling today and whether they even remember confessing their love for both me and carbs, but I'm starting to wish that I was the drunk one last night. Things are so much easier whn there's not much else but alcohol in your body. Well alcohol and a whole lotta love for bad foods and me (in that order, apparently.).

Hi, I'm Vicky and I'm addicted to Gaga.

I should have guessed that Lady Gaga was a pretty big deal when the queue to see her perform at V Festival 2009 resulted in masses of people trying to jump the 60ft gate that closed off the arena entrance. People were risking their lives to see this chick perform and back then, I had no clue as to why they'd be silly enough to do that. As I stood there watching a man attempt to push past a 6ft security guard, who looked as if he ate 3 grown men for breakfast, just to get within Gaga's air space, I couldn't help but think "what the heck is this all about? She's just a singer, right?"

Oh, how wrong could I have been? 2 years since that moment, I've seen Gaga dominate the hit 40 UK chart show week after week, sell out arena tours within seconds and cover every single magazine & newspaper sold in WHSmith. Up until now, I've refused to allow myself to get swept up in the craze known as "Gaga-itus" simply because I assumed she was everything I was against.
Her quirky pop vocals, slightly cringey lyrics (c'mon, I mean "let's have some fun, this beat is sick, I wanna take a ride on your disco stick" - amazing and factual but just a REALLY cringey way of saying "I fancy you and want to make beautiful babies with you") and THAT meat dress all just screamed "GIVE ME ATTENTION" and for this reason alone, I stepped well away from the platform when I heard that the Gaga train would be stopping at my station.

However, after a conversation with my Mum where she declared that she thought she had better music taste than me and was therefore 'cooler' than me (baring in mind, my Mum is a huge JLS fan...), I decided to try to prove her wrong.
Her argument was that I refuse to listen to anything that isn't by The Beatles/John Lennon, "punk bands that sing about piercing themselves & drugs" or songs which don't take me back, metaphorically, to the 60's. Apparently, according to my 'really cool' Mother, if a song doesn't transport me straight to Woodstock, I instantly write it off. It kills me to admit it but I knew that deep down, she was right.
Knowing that unless I gave 'chart music' a listen, my Mum would hold the fact that she was theoretically cooler than me over my head forever, I decided to give Gaga a go. Famous last words...

The first step I took was reading an interview by one of my favourite writer's, Caitlin Moran. A lot was hanging over this interview, including my pride and dignity if I had to turn to my Mum and say "you're right...my music taste belongs to a 50 year old man."
I read Moran's interview with baited breath and as I reached the end of the piece, I finally saw what millions of people over the globe see in Gaga.
It just so happened that the day after I read the interview, Gaga would be appearing on Johnathon Ross' show. My 2nd step was in place. I sat down that night and watched the interview with my eyes wide open. A total force to be reckoned with, Gaga, decked out in a mint green ensemble, entered the studio accompanied by a sheep named Kevin. What a way to make an entrance.
 I watched the entire interview, and performance, astounded. Through the media, I've always assumed Gaga would be pretentious and so far removed from reality that she may as well live on Mars, but I was fortunately proved wrong. I mean, she actually has a sense of humour? Amazing.

Since then, I've watched her HBO special documenting 'The Monster Ball', watched a 2 hour long interview entitled "When Google Went Gaga" and read numerous interviews. What started out as a challenge to prove my Mum wrong has now turned into a bit of an obsession. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm not a big fan of the music - don't hold that against me, I just can't deal with the 'poppiness' of it all - but I'm suddenly a huge fan of Lady Gaga's mind. Suddenly, I understood why those crazy people back at V Festival 2009 were so dedicated to seeing her perform live.

She's not just a singer, she's a force of nature. Music is everything to Lady Gaga and the fame & attention she's received on the back of her music is an added bonus, although she insists that she has no idea just how famous she is. What may seem like the craziest decision ever is actually a mere tactic in one of Gaga's magnificent plans to promote her music further. She's sad that she finds inspiration in the likes of David Bowie and John Lennon, two of my musical heroes and the name 'Lady Gaga' originates from the Queen song, Radio Gaga (obviously...). Putting the meat dress aside for a minute, here's a girl who knows what she wants and isn't going to stop until she gets her mitts on it.

Yes, she may wear provocative clothing but we see that in the high street these days. Her lyrics maybe a bit tongue in cheek but that's nothing that we don't see on TV (where, actually, we're probably witnesses to something more than just tongue in cheek) and yes, maybe her 'fashion' has kept the "What NOT to Wear" style columns in business for a long time. I mean, her outfits aren't really supermarket friendly, are they?
But despite all of this, she's actually a really great role model for young, ambitious girls everywhere.

She's kept her private life exactly that: private and hasn't made money on selling stories to the tabloids. It just really is all about music to her.

With that, I'm happy to announce that I'm a fully fledged 'Little Monster' and will happily "put my paws up" to that. Plus, she's even covered a John Lennon song and done it quite a bit of justice. For that, she's got my respect forever:

London bound, baby.

I'm all packed, I've reserved a seat on the 17.57 Eastbourne to London Victoria train and I've got 'Bridget Jones' Diary' by Helen Fielding to keep me company during the 2 hour journey. I can't wait.

One downside to my little adventure is that I won't have my laptop with me, so I won't be able to check out all your wonderful blogs while I'm away. SADface. However, as soon as I'm back, I'm going to obsessively check every single one of your blogs to make sure I haven't missed out on anything.

I'm super excited to have some time to chill out in London, as I usually have a itinerary so jam-packed, I never really get time to explore. I'm going to try and write a fair bit too, which'll be weird as I'll have to handwrite everything due to my lack of technology. I'm also pretty excited about hanging out with my best friend. It's been 2 months since I saw her and her family so this visit couldn't come any sooner.

I don't know when I'm next going to be able to blog as I'm not sure when I'll be heading home but stay safe and keep bloggin', kids xxx

"Confess to yourself in the deepest hour of the night whether you would have to die if you were forbidden to write. Dig deep into your heart, where the answer spreads its roots in your being, and ask yourself solemnly, Must I write?" - Rilke's Letter's to a Young Poet

“By seeing London, I have seen as much of life as the world can show”

There's nothing I love more than receiving the confirmation e-mail (I know, I know, I'm a geek) from Southern Railway, telling me that a seat on the 17.03pm Eastbourne to London Victoria has been reserved for little ol' me. It's not just the confirmation e-mail that excites me, it's everything about my adventure from the moment I step out of my front door.

Even when the train is jam-packed with busy commuters, business men in sharp suits who insist on shouting at their phone/laptop/iPad and screaming children, I can't help but find peace in the crazy 90 minute train journey.

Perhaps it's the thought of escaping my ever so tiny town and causing havoc in the 'Big Smoke' for a few days or just the fact that I get to spend quality time with my best friend and her family, but I'm at my happiest as soon as the voiceover on the train states "the next station is Gatwick Airport". I know that home isn't too far away then.

Baring my geeky tendencies in mind, you can only imagine the size of my smile when I received that confirmation e-mail tonight. Because, as of Thursday, I'm disappearing off to London.

The best thing about this adventure? I booked a single ticket. I have no idea when I'm going to be coming back and I couldn't be happier.

I get to spend quality time with the girl (and her family) who has been my backbone for the past 16 years. I get to sit on the sofa I grew up on, in the house that's felt like my 2nd home since I was 3 years old, and watch music documentaries, sports and Gilmore Girls until my eyes are bleeding. I get to eat the grimiest takeaway ever, that's only available in London, and I'm going to savour every bite. I get to jump on random tubes and spend my days exploring different parts of London until my feet can't take anymore walking. I'm going to sit by Tower Bridge, people watch and write until it's time to drag myself back to that sofa. Most of all, I'm going to enjoy every minute of it.

A lot of negativity has been flying around over the past couple of weeks and an event that took place last night reminded me that although we're not here for a long time, we're here to have a good time. Hence why I'm packing my bags and running away to the District/Circle/Victoria line.

Not everybody is lucky enough to have a place to run too when things get tough, or a best friend like mine who I know will be waiting on my arrival with a cup of tea, a hug and some anecdote from 1998 when we thought we were the Spice Girls, but I'm fortunate enough to have both and I'm really grateful for that.

With that, I'm left wondering where you guys go when you're feeling a little lost. Do you have somewhere, or somebody, that makes you feel instantly better? A particular landmark, person or place that you seek solace from? Hit me back guys, I'm interested to know whether I'm the only crazy one who thinks Tower Bridge can solve my problems.

Facts #3

I've just ended a 6 year relationship that was a pretty big deal and surprisingly, I've yet to fall to emotional pieces. I've realised that I'm a lot stronger than I thought I was. Festivals are basically my favourite thing ever. 'Parachutes' - Charlie Simpson is my current song obsession and I have a really big crush on him right now. I'm worried I'm not a good enough 18 year old; I don't like clubbing, unless I'm with my best girls, I hate really loud music and the idea of hooking up with somebody on a dancefloor makes me cringe. I've just admitted the one thing I swore would never come out of my mouth. Wine, cigarettes and Cadbury's Twirl Bites are my current obsessions. I'm going to go to bed and cry to songs about love...(I might be joking).

Today has been a bit of a weird one, if I'm honest with you. The picture above says it all.
Some days, I just want to grab my purse, iPod, phone (and charger) and a picture of this small, but beautiful, town and hop on a train and never come back. I don't feel settled here, I feel like I'm waiting for something BIG to happen...but I've been waiting for that for the past 7 years.

Happy posts will resume tomorrow, I just had to let it be known that I have emotions and despite people thinking I'm a robot/cyborg type, I am human. Kind of.

Even the strong need someone to tell them it's all right.

When bad news gets delivered to my door, I eat. I eat anything that isn't nailed down and God help it if it looks as though it can be eaten with either chocolate sauce or custard. Over the past few weeks, bad news has been a regular visitor and with that, my trips to the shop to buy calorie laden foods have become more and more frequent.

However, after stepping on the scales and realising that perhaps the 3rd batch of triple chocolate brownies went straight to my thighs, instead of my heart, I knew that when bad news knocked this weekend, the confectionery aisle of my local supermarket was not the place to find my solace.

So instead of reaching for yet another tub of ice-cream, I reached for my phone. I, stupidly, tweeted about the bad news and luckily for me, I'm followed by some absolute diamonds because within seconds, I had DMs, tweets and texts asking what was wrong.

Now, I try to not take my friend's (or followers) for granted, as I don't think that's healthy, but something about the amount of love sent my way last night made me realise that I really am incredibly lucky to have such wonderful people acting as my safety net.

In honour of my "safety net", I've set out on this blog post. I'm absolutely shocking with emotions/feelings and the thought of openly telling somebody just how much they mean to me gives me the heebie-jeebies which is why I rarely do it. However, I just thought a quick, soppy blog post could sum up what I'm unable to do without making myself sick from too much toe-curling cheese:

To my wonderful safety net, thank you for making me fearless of falling. I know I'll be alright as long as I have you to catch me. I'm not scared when you're around xxx