My new favourite word is esoteric. Esoteric. Esoteric. Meaning: confined to and understandable by only an enlightened inner circle. Probably because I just read the new Dan Brown book and it only mentions it about a bazillion times.

I'm currently watching Beauty & The Beast on our new VCR in the flat, and pondering the relative merits of resolutions. Not sure I'm of the mindset to see anything through, really.

Ólafur Arnalds - Ljósið

Ah, Christmas. The season of feeling guilty because you don't feel more grateful.

Christmas is always a....fickle time for my family. We can be having a perfectly lovely time one minute, then massive arguments about nothing, then fine again. When you add gift-giving into the mix, well, it makes for an interesting time.

Take my mother, for example. She always tells us not to get her anything, "Don't waste your money, I don't need anything, it's just nice to have you home.", so one year we actually took her at her word. We didn't get her anything. She threw a massive fit and stormed upstairs, taking her 'one present she bought herself' with her - a hairdryer. She didn't really appreciate being reminded that she didn't want anything. Apparently nothing doesn't actually mean nothing.

This year nothing that bad happened, just a lot of snarky trivial pursuit games and sneaky queries about the origins of gifts, except for the questioning. The constant questioning. "So, have you got a boyfriend?" "Are there any nice guys?", and my favourite, "Why do you think you don't have a boyfriend? Do guys not like you? Do you think you give out the wrong vibes?"

Nothing signals the point at which it's best to get out, get out now before you kill your family quite like your father giving you advice on how to attract men.

What did you get for Christmas? I got perfume, books, and a deep-set Daddy complex.

I bladdy love Christmas. I arrive home [trumpets blaring, at least in my head] as the prodigal daughter, spreading joy and christmas cheer like a post-spirit-visit Scrooge, taking over the kitchen like a more svelte Ina Garten. Oh hang on, I've mixed up my metaphors somewhat. Well, you get the picture.

Since coming home I've made more truffles, baked gingerbread men, played board games, drank lovely boozey hot chocolate, watched a plethora of movies, and rolled about in the snow. All in a days work for Mrs Festive over here.

I can't wait for Christmas Eve, and Christmas Day, and pretty much the whole time I've got left at home. My only responsibility here is to keep an eye on the fire [but I'm pretty rubbish at it] and I'm just revelling in the utter luxuriousness of not having anything to do.

Bliss.

I am living in a bunker. A windowless, airless bunker. At least I'm getting lots of work done though, and in 94 hours I will be finished. And then I can get back to doing what I do best - being ridiculous, and this time it'll be Christmas-themed.

The only thing getting me through (apart from a horrifyingly large pile of 'study snacks') is really pumped up music:

Kid Cudi - Pursuit of Happiness (Steve Aoki Remix)
V V Brown - Back In Time
Wale vs Justice - W.A.L.E.D.A.N.C.E
Metric - Gold Guns Girls
The Temper Trap - Love Lost
Kid Cudi - Cudderisback
Vampire Weekend - Exit Music (For A Film)
Noisettes- Beat Of My Heart
Wale - 90210

The quality is a smidge shitty, but I have no patience for enormous byte-y files. I've been taking procrastination to the extreme, and ended up editing a load of little video clips I have together. You know, where you think you're taking a photo, but you're not? Yeah, those. I really should be working...

Oh hello leftover truffles. OH HELLO cellulite. Worth it? Definitely.

Just as tasty: Justin Vernon singing with a full orchestra on Eau Claire Memorial Jazz 1 - A Decade With Duke

Ohhhhhhhh just slept for 11 hours om nom nom nom sleep.

I wish someone could deliver me some orange juice straight to my bed though. In a carafe, if possible.

Massively regretting those two cups of coffee and six caffeine tablets. I look like a panda has punched me. Twice. In each eye. And by that convoluted metaphor, I mean that I look very tired. Mehhhhh.

I hate exams. I hate how I always seem to forget that I actually have work to do until, oh, I don't know, a week beforehand. I can't wait until this is all over and I can bake and sew and generally lounge around being ridiculous. The photo above is from my friend's birthday party, for which we baked ridiculous amounts of food, in the hope that some would be left for a spot of breakfast the next day. Nope, all gone.

Until then I'm all "Oh, hello strong black coffee and pro-plus, I've not seen you in a while, mind if I abuse you for a couple of days?". Cue massive jitters and worried looks from flatmates. Don't worry, I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine why would you ever think I wasn't fine because I'm totally fine.