The waiting game

As I grow fond of Olives, constantly crave a cuppa and get excited for a night in with Bubble, I wonder if maybe what I thought would never happen, may just be happening. I’m growing up.

Of course I still love a night out, but spending over half a week either drunk or hungover isn’t as appealing anymore. University has been the best years of my life and I’ve learnt so much about myself and am so happy I went but after three years of waking up to a kitchen smelling of beer, where you have to tip toe over pizza crusts from the night before isn’t all it’s cracked up to be anymore. Especially when there’s a farm house in the middle of the country side, with a fridge full of bacon, rooms filled with cats and a family full of love not far away. Possibly I’m growing up? Perhaps three years is long enough? But maybe, it’s because everything is starting to fall in place and I’m getting excited about what’s to come.

 As many people believe, Friday 13th brings bad luck, but on Friday 13th of this month, I got a very exciting e-mail. “Thank you for your application to study PGCE at the University of East Anglia. We are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to attend an interview at the University.” How exciting… I thought.

I ring mum, but she doesn’t pick up as she’s working. So I ring dad, resulting in tears of happiness. But in-between the time of speaking to dad, and mum ringing me back I had received an email to tell me when the interview would happen, only  7 days later, and what the interview entailed: A 45 minute interview with a head teacher and lecturer; a book presentation which involved me choosing a children’s book and presenting why I felt the book would be beneficial in a classroom, to the other applicants, the teacher and lecturer and completing a written task within the three hours I would be there. So by the time mum had got back to me, I was crying all sorts of tears.

So the next 7 days were full of tears and tantrums, nerves and nightmares. What will I wear?! What questions will they ask?! What if my book doesn’t arrive in time?! How do I get there?! What if the reason I got my interview on Friday 13th was because it’s going to go wrong?! What if I forget everything and just burst into tears?! What if I forget what my name is?!

7 sleepless nights later, the morning arrived and I’d never felt so nervous in my life. I think the reason I felt different this time to previous interviews was because of how much I want it. For once in my life, I was 100% sure on something and if I get a place this year I won’t have 16 months to fill before I could apply again.

I’m not going to go into the details of the interview because I’m sure that wouldn’t interest you… Well I guess I could pretend that was why. But more honestly, I’ve got a new kitten and I want to go and tickle his tummy. But oh my gosh, I think it went really well! Every question I’d prepared myself for came up and I managed to answer every one well, I think, and very naturally. I managed to present my book without any nerves popping up, and I remembered my name! And I have a lovely little feeling inside, that it may have been down to a very special flower up there who was holding my hand throughout.

So now I wait for a response, 1-3 weeks to go and I have all my fingers crossed and that’s more than you have on your hands as I’m from Norfolk. So if you wouldn’t mind, could you cross your fingers for me too please and hopefully you’ll be reading a blog very shortly, filled of excitement in caps lock.

And I can breathe again

 

“What course do you study at University?”, “Fashion Studies”, “Oh, so you spend 3 years colouring in?”. Fantastic.

I chose to pursue a degree in Fashion studies because I’ve always preferred working practically over academically, have a creative flare and a passion for fashion. Surprisingly enough it isn’t because it was the only course my grades allowed me to study and that they offer a £50 Topshop giftcard to whoever passes. In fact I left High school and Sixth form with 12 A-C GCSE’s and 1 A and 2 B’s at A Level resulting in enough UCAS points to have got on most of the courses at this University.

As a course, BA Fashion studies students are given freedom to work and no limits within what they design, whether it be a simple cotton shift dress, or a clowns outfit made from cellotape and pencil sharpening’s.  But if I want to walk away with at least a pass, there is absolutely no freedom within the amount of work needed to complete.

It grinds my gears when people say that Fashion is a cop out and University is just 3 years of drinking and sleeping. I’m not one to determine what other courses are like, but for me the last 2 years have been the hardest years of my life, and I have never put so much effort into something.

After a large number of all-nighters, tears and tantrums I’ve just ended my second year by handing in 20 sketchbooks/portfolios, over 10,000 words of essays and 4 final garments. And over this summer, I will have all of my Norfolk incestuous toes and fingers crossed, hoping that my hard work pays off when I receive my results, and that I can put to rest the upsetting myth, that us fashionista’s are brainless.

I hope that you’ll have yours crossed too

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There’s a first time for everything

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To say I know what I’m doing would be wrong. I feel like i’ve just walked into a party where everyone is already friends and I know no one. As easy as it would be to stand in the corner, with a drink and a nervous smile, that’s too easy. I want to be noticed, but for the right reasons. I want my posts to interest and inspire you, whilst gaining followers that do the same to me.
 I’m Zoe Cole, and I’m 19 years old. I was born in the city of Norwich but that’s about the closest I get to being a ‘city girl’. My family are farmers, my house is a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, and I’d rather lose a finger than be a vegetarian. I have a very close knit family, my immediate consisting of my beautiful, physiotherapist of a mum, commonly known as a bit of a milf. My father, a grumpy old man, who seems to only be happy once a year (once the harvest’s done).. But deep down he’s the best, and I’ve always been a daddy’s girl. My sister is 17, and as I’m sure many teenage sisters are, we’re best friends one day and enemies the next. My younger brother has just discovered the xbox and masturbation, so I don’t see him much..
I went to Pulham Primary School where I learnt the words to ‘He’s got the whole world in his hands’, at Archbishop Sancroft High School I learnt to avoid teenage boys and began to notice my passion for art and design. Onwards from here I went to Bungay Sixth Form where I discovered alcohol, high heels and the talent I have for textile, and the attraction I had with fashion. Since then I have been studying Fashion studies at the University of Lincoln and am absolutely loving it.
My blog will be a place where I come to when I feel inspired and need a rant. A place where I can share my opinions and my special memories. But mainly a place where I can use big words from the dictionary and pretend I know what I’m doing.
Take care x