Ow me hip...

My hips really hurt from queueing so much today. Even the good hip is painful. It's going to be a bad sleep tonight, I could really do with someone to hug me but #1 went to sleep really early and she has the lurgey anyway. Thank heavens for painkillers.

I think I just broke my email address. I had it for all of 15 minutes. That is a record, even for me.

a pact to be a bit more... good

I've stopped being quite so miserable. I think I was just moping cos I was bored and feeling lonely. it's weird to go from being around people all the time - albeit at work - to not being with anyone. Plus I really like a lot of the people I worked with and it felt like suddenly I had lost all my friends, and I felt very out of my depth. But I guess this is normal. I have never been very good with nerves. I remember once before I was going on holiday I got so nervous that I ended up with stomach cramps (it was a crap holiday too, so I feel I was justified). But really, there is no need for me to be nervous. I still have friends, for fuck's sake (though, of course, if I continue acting like a bit of a chump then that may not last!!), and I have already met new people. Instead of moping, I need to be more proactive - like not being miserable at home, but instead getting off my arse and going out! Shock horror etc. It works.

Take yesterday as an example. I'd spoken to the boy a number of times and said I'd come and see him, but I really considered not going. But I went, and we had a lovely time (on a swivel chair). But then nicer, we talked and I realised I had missed him a bit (I told him it was only "a little tiny bit") and we did silly things like hold hands and play tricks on each other. We went to the pub and he told me about his whole visa situation and I tried in vain to think of a way round it. I am so glad that my passport lets me basically do what I want. The joys of the maroon little book. Anyway, he has to go back home to try and sort out a new one. It's ridiculous, as the whole system seems so unfair, and what makes perfect sense to me is the antithesis of the whole modus operandi of the passport/visa system. I don't know, I just rocked up at the embassy in Knightsbridge with my birth certificate and hey presto - it seems other people go to far greater lengths to stay in this country. And why? Is this country so great? It certainly makes you wonder about other countries.

This morning I woke up with quite a big burn on my hand and a bite mark on my arm. In fact, 2 sets of bite marks, so that they look like sharks teeth. It took me a good minute to remember that I went to LSE and met up with A and some other people and had a surprisingly nice night. The biting aside, obviously - though I would like to clarify that I bit myself. It was really good to catch up with people again, and it was good to kind of "officially" be friends with people. It's cool when you discover that you had loads in common with someone but you never really realised before. Yay! Oh yeah, there was a midget there and we all were a bit blatant in our staring at him. There was the token "alternative" as well, you know the sort, a wannabe punk who's clearly from Hampshire but he's got green and purple hair so let's all say raaahhh. I found a tenner on the floor and drank lots of gin and then, in quite a stylish move, managed to knock over a drink so that it tipped straight in my shoe, which I had momentarily removed my foot from. Going home sounded like this: thump squelsh thump squelsh. On the way home I got talking to this rasta about how important it is to study non-European countries and how you can't possibly have an understanding of the world system and geopolitics without an understanding of world history. Then I got home, listened to Belle and Sebastian on repeat and cooked rice with chili.

I found my mp3 player. It was stuck in the ring binder of the folder I have all my dissertation notes in. Why? God only knows - I haven't got a freaking clue.

Student life, day 2. Aka: sitting around in my pyjamas.

I'm going to become a vegan. But in the meantime I have loads of non-vegan foods that I need to eat up so for breakfast today I ate some cheese biscuits and now I feel a bit sick and I don't really fancy honey-roasted carrots for lunch. And in a last-ditch non-vegan extravaganza, I drank some milk. Part of me thinks I will not be able to keep it up, but I became a vegetarian overnight and have never eaten meat since - apart from once when I went to my grandma's house and I didn't have the heart to tell her as she'd cook me a whole special menu, so I ate some fish pie. My grandma is more important than morals. Though I don't know if I could do it now as the thought of meat is just gross. Yesterday I nearly touched a bit of chicken. I am getting well squeamish.

Things all kicked off yesterday as #1's boyfriend-type-person was a complete arsehole. Cue many fags out the bedroom window and all of us sitting around passing judgement and hugging each other. I made what I thought was quite an insightful comment - all the men/boys (let's face it, no one that cowardly can be called a man) who have dicked #1 and I around recently have been follicly challenged, that is to say, bald (or getting there at least). I just don't get #1's last one though. He's very sweet and all that, but for someone who says he prides honesty above everything else, he talks out of his arse. "You make me really happy" --> "This is never going to be a meaningful relationship" Does this make sense? And is anyone else having flashbacks? Anyway, after all of that, and everyone else went to bed, I decided to watch "The Best of Borat". Man I can't wait for the Borat film, it's gonna be ace.

I worry that I have lost all depth to my personality. I used to be able to have conversations and debates and now all I can do is a) whinge, and b) do "comedy" things like talk about Borat. Where did my intelligence go? Today I feel quite miserable and I want to stay in bed. Yesterday I got weirded out because people think I am something I am not, and really, I'd just like to sleep. And maybe listen to Sting. Maybe. But I am going to have to get up later as I have promised to go into the office, under the pretence of giving back my swipe card. But really I am going to have sex with the boy. Apparently - things are weird, and if I wasn't so apathetic I would do something about it, but instead I'll say "BYEEE" in a comedy way and get back in bed. I'm not entirely sure why things are weird but I think it might have something to do with me being a twat when I was pissed on Wednesday and the fact that he's not really that into me anyway. Yeah whatevs.

Whinge whinge whinge moan moan moan. At least my computer is working nicely now - thank you bro!

Drinking wine and listening to Eminem. Am I REALLY a masters student?

Today was my first day at uni. I turned up at 10 for a talk from the director or whatever they call him. He was nice and sweet but it was a bit dull. I knew most of it from my obsessive reading of the SOAS website. Well, I wanted to be informed, didn't I? Beforehand, I said hello to the girl sitting next to me. Throughout the entire talk I scanned the room thinking "maybe one of these people will become my friend?" before thinking "no, of course they won't, you ignoramous, and by the way, what the hell are you doing here?" At the end, someone shouted my name... Oh my fucking lord it's only F, who I went out with for about 2 months at the age of 16. I was misguided. Oh my lord. No no no. Etc. Then I saw this girl who I sat next to in English and German for 2 years in sixth form! Which is far acer cos she's so lovely. We talked for ages. It was kinda surreal as I think she had a very different impression of me than the real me. For example, we were talking about college, and I said how miserable I was, and she said that I always seemed okay... then later (unconnected to the previous conversation) she said that she was bad at acting and that I seemed better at it (something to do with me going into uni for my undergrad in my pyjamas). And it just made me think, what the fuck? I seemed fine then, I seem fine now. But am I really? I admit I'm only writing this now as I've had a bottle of wine. But am I fine? I don't know. Ask me when I'm sober and I'm like "yeah yeah yeah I'm great". But inside I'm so scared and I don't know what the fuck is going on. I spend far more time worrying than I should. I do all the things that I like to think that I don't do. I don't know whether I'm irrational. I don't think I'm going to make friends this year and I like to pretend that it's okay because I already have friends. I already have friends, right? I just don't know anymore. I feel very alone. Oh whinge whinge whinge. I think I am far more messed up than I like to think and seeing as part of the agreement of me staying in London this year was that I have therapy blah blah, so I guess I should. Thing is, I hate people who talk like they've had therapy. I have some prime examples to give but I can't because it was told to me in confidence. Then again, people who should have had therapy who haven't (again, I have a very good example), talk out of their arse and fuck everyone around on a long-term mission statement of slowly ruining their own life, so which would I prefer?

Anyway. I met some nice people. We went to ULU and had a pint. When we all went our seperate ways I walked about 200m down the road and had a panic attack and had to hide in the Waterstones. I then wandered aimlessly for a while and bought a new jacket. I got the bus home but half way home I got off and got the bus back into town and got all my hair cut off.

Now I am pissed and feeling less alone, though wine is not your friend, I should know this.

first day

Today is my first day at uni but all I have done so far is wander around in my pyjama's pretending that I'm not really nervous. Hopefully there will be more to report later. I'm now going to spend half an hour choosing what to wear.

Reasons why I shouldn't drink

As may have slipped your attention (not likely as I keep going on about it), I haven't been drinking. Barring the night when I drank all those mojitos. And when I went to the pub with #1. And on Tuesday when I went to Soho. But I haven't been drinking much. Yesterday was my last day at work - which was fun actually and I'll write about it later (I didn't win the prize due to an 'incident') - and so after work I went out for some drinks. Obviously I didn't have any dinner, though I had made some flapjacks and some chocolate cornflake cakes. Went to the Roxy and everyone bought me wine. I then proceeded to:

- show everyone my toerings
- tell everyone that my colleague does drugs
- talk AT LENGTH about The L Word
- announce that I thought the ideal person would be the love child of Girls Aloud and Justin Timberlake.
- sing "I just wanna love you baby" in a comedy Justin Timberlake way
- tell a colleague about my disastrous relationship history and a whole load of stuff I shouldn't have said
- go on AT LENGTH about how the man from HR had texted me
- announce that I wanted a menagerie of boyfriends in front of the boy who I think thinks that he is my boyfriend
- decide to go to Soho
- wander around town for ages feeling sulky
- call S and be an arsehole to her
- have a fight and tell the boy not to bother coming back to mine
- get on bus anyway and let him sleep leaning against my shoulder

On the bus I felt really flaky and thought meh drinking. I woke up at least one of my housemates and then spent all night being really hot and getting annoyed with the boy for trying to have sex with me at some ungodly hour.

Today I feel ropey. I have sent an apology text to S. I'm listening to Justin Timberlake at home and eating the remains of some squashed cornflake cakes. I think my insides have liquified. I went to the doctors and she was like yeah your blood is funny and why do you have sunglasses on, and I said meh fix my life please.

I'm going to go and find something nutritious to eat and then read trashy magazines all day.

a living art installation

It turns out that I am actually a celebrity. No, not an LSE celebrity, silly. A proper celebrity. As in, my visage was in an exhibition. People looked and me and thought... well, I don't know. But anyway. I only found by chance - I was wasting time on facebook, as per my usual day, and I came across this girl I used to go to music college with, who I haven't seen in about five years. Then yesterday she sent me a message and told me that she'd seen my photo in a Paul Sutton exhibition. Which must have been funny - if I went to an exhibition and saw a photo of someone I knew I'd be running around going "omg omg omg!" Much googling later, and I found a video montage of the exhibition on youtube. Check this out (can you spot me?):

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gPRqhBfQZXo

Let me set the scene:
I am 18 and work as a teacher
I accidentally dyed my hair blue
I live in a building with 40 Mexican teenagers who I am meant to be responsible for
I spend most nights at my boyfriends, drinking gin
The little boy on my back is called Roberto
The Mexicans and I are on a day out
Roberto is 13 and wants to be my brother
He has competition from another 13 year old called Fernando

This weekend passed in a whirl of food and books and fireworks and newspapers and mini-rolls. On Saturday my friends parents took me out for dinner. Yesterday I went to the Thames Festival and saw, amongst other things, Terri Walker, a carnival procession, and some fireworks. I agreed to go to a Tudor installation at the Tate. Someone who I didn't think wanted to be my friend anymore was incredibly nice to me and said such lovely things. I did lots of civilised things and tried on a mens jacket that I now really really love. Which goes against all fanciful ideas of dressing more like a) a girl, and b) an adult.

I have two days left at work and I have been told that I will be missed. I think I might miss the place.

There is lots of good news but overshadowing it is the rather shocking news that my ex is coming back to the country on Wednesday. Yep. You better watch out for that phone ringing. But look at me being bothered??

Things are good at the moment.

Cats called Clarence

I was reading a book, lying on my bed, and #5 called me. I thought this was a bit odd as she was in the kitchen. She told me to come quick - but quietly - as we had a small furry visitor. I immediately thought of a mouse and felt vaguely disgusted, but went to the kitchen. And there was a cat! A black and white cat, who matched the floortiles. #5 wanted to call him Bob but I said that his name should be Clarence (G asked me why and it turns out he has never seen True Romance). Clarence really liked #1 but she threatened to stab him with her fork (?). He was very sweet but a bit thick.

Shit and piss

We got sent home from work cos there was a sewage problem, as in a leak, of shit, in the building. Yes, the building is up shit creek. It's in the shit. There was a properly cheery atmosphere (though not among the facilities staff nor the people in the library next door as their ceiling came crashing in...). Anyway, opportunism has always been my game so I ran around being an excitable child and then went to the park with my friends. Then me and O went into town and pissed around so much. I got told that I acted like a child. Then I licked his ear and he said he wouldn't go anywhere with me again. We ended up trying to spit ice on each other in Burger King and I was wearing his aftershave and we'd walked a hundred miles and I couldn't stop laughing.

Paperchase gladly accepted my custom and now I have folders for uni. I met S and then M came round, and we drank tea, and then went to buy Bollywood films. But on the way, oh my god, I saw R, who I used to live with. It was well scary. Turns out he texted my ex the other day in a fit of nostalgia and it didn't get through, which I guess means that he's not in the country, which is a good thing. It was so weird. I keep running into people from my past. Why is this? I liked seeing R (and funnily, he understood the whole hair-washing thing more than anyone else, and he saw first hand the completely all-consuming and totally destructive nature of the relationship I had with my ex, so rather than hear about it in the comedy tales I tell, he knows, and therefore he's probably one of a very small handful, if not the only one), but it was odd. I want to hang out with him but what if he mentions any of the fucked up shit that happened? Like the stuff we all even then pretended hadn't happened. Or if he brings this other girl we lived with, a girl who simultaneously hated and pitied me. Who let's face it, I hero worshipped. Oh. The 19 year old Hats was not a very sorted person whatsoever.

Let's go, eskimo!

Man, he is in trouble. I lend him my favourite book, my very favourite book, and he loses it! Without even finishing it! He can think again if he thinks he's getting Oryx and Crake back.

I have become really obsessed with Girls Aloud (in order of hotness, it's: the ginger one, the geordie racist one, the Irish one, the non descript one, and the blond one). We all know they're more than the sum of their parts, but "Biology"? That's an amazing song. And I downloaded 50 Cent.

Oh yeah, it's like that is it?

Oooh look at the date, but am I bothered? Yeah I got dumped a year ago today. Whatevs. I actually DON'T CARE that the nice happy dream of getting married and having babies and having some lamearse apple tree in the garden didn't happen. It's been the best year of my life this year even though I drank too much and got really fat. Being 22 is ace and this was the best 11th September ever.

I took the day off work (though it was hella complicated) as I still wasn't feeling top notch. I spazzed out a bit leaving the house as I got to Denmark Hill and couldn't remember if I'd locked the door so had to come back. But I went to SOAS, but they said I needed to go to the other campus, so I wandered over and cajoled a man into filling in my loan form and he said "see you at enrolment!" and I thought FUCK!! I'm going to be a student!! I walked about town in a mini skirt and people told me I was beautiful and I smiled sweetly and said thank you, then bought some ace sunglasses and some properly awesome hoops.

Tell you what, everything is A-OKAY!!

Happy Hats didn't seem to want to stick around but she left this poor substitute instead

The lack of posts - and general quality in said posts - recently is down to a number of factors. Firstly, I'm a lazy bugger. Secondly, I (I say "I" but really I mean "my brother" cos he knows about this sort of stuff and I don't) only just got my home PC working again and at work I am quite distracted by sending pointless emails to people, impersonating the Queen or trying to convince people I've been offered the position of chairman, or just sending filth to #1, or coming up with 'amusing' things to do, or simply falling over a lot because there are too many chairs and fans and computer bits and random boxes behind my desk. Thirdly, now that I am a nice normal - and maybe even a bit happy? - girl, there's not a lot to write about. Emo drama is so much more interesting, is it not? Isn't that what makes one an LSE celebrity? Frankly, I don't want to be a "celebrity", especially if the calibre of the individuals judging is that low. Anyway. Fourthly, and this is only an excuse for the last few days, I have flu. I knew I would get it and I have been taking 1500mg Vitamin C every morning to try and NOT get it, but did it work? Did it bollocks. Last week, J was ill... he gave it to L... who gave it O... who gave it to me. By about 3pm on Friday, people were coming up to me at work and saying "fucking hell, you look like shit!", which is always guaranteed to make you feel a hell of a lot better about yourself. I cancelled all the arrangements I'd made for the evening and went home, via the shops, where I stocked up on lemsip, paracetamol, those cold-and-flu tablets, bread and soya milk. Then went home, got into bed, and fell into a sweaty, feverish sleep for damn near twenty hours. During which time I hallucinated that my ex (by this, I mean the big bad ex) was in the room, and lost about two pints of fluid in sweat. I am nice when I am ill. At some point #1 came into my room but I was thrashing about and couldn't speak and she thought it best to leave me alone.

I woke up on Saturday very briefly and ate a piece of bread. #5 laughed in my face and I tried to storm off but my legs were a bit wobbly so I just hobbled to the kitchen and made more lemsip. Then I went back to bed. We were all meant to be going out to #2's birthday party thing, so when I woke up again at about 6.30, I had a shower and put some clothes on, and stuffed myself full of paracetamol, and went into town with #1 and #5, who I was trying not to want to kill. We went to a bar where two drinks cost sixteen quid. I had a diet coke and a cigarette. An alcoholic nearly kicked over a chair. I smiled politely, left, bought a Caramel Aero and went home. Got into bed and sweated.

Today has been bizarre. I felt a little better so I messed about on my computer, thinking of songs to download. Amongst other things, I downloaded some Flaming Lips, then was listening to the Yeah Yeah Yeah Song while staring out of the window. And then I started crying. I've been really good recently, I haven't been thinking about N. But I used to listen to that song at his house in his room, and it was so sunny and the sky was so blue, and everything was damn peachy. Then today, same song, same sky... but not so peachy. And yeah, I'm okay. But I do miss N, and I do wonder what he's up to and whether I ever even cross his mind. Okay, and yeah, I did look at the photos on facebook. I'm not so unhappy as I was, I really am not. Just little things remind me of him, and then I want to slap myself round the head for even being that person. So much of my time, so much of my life in fact, is spent thinking "that wasn't me, right? I'm not that same person, am I?" as the me of today can't identify with the me of last week, let alone the me of last month or last year or heaven forbid any further in the past. Oh whinge whinge whinge. I know he's not thinking about me. Part of me wants to write him a letter to tell him... I don't know, to make it so we could be friends. But it's not that simple, is it, you can't just magic things into existence. Much as I'd like things my way, or even a straightforward way, things have this amazing habit of fucking up in your face.

Anyway, I watched the Monza GP and in between being shocked at how poorly broadcast the whole thing was and lamenting a rather lacklustre performance by Kimi, I pondered Michael Schumacher's retirement. I thought I'd be really happy about it, but as the whole debacle unfolded I started to feel really sad. I thought maybe it was the lemsip, or the fact that I was feeling generally miserable in a kind of ill way, but all these images flashed through my head... Michael Schumacher - much as I dislike him for his dodgy tactics (see: Hill; Villeneuve; Monaco), his utter German-ness in interviews, the ethos of his team, as well as what can only rationally be called an irrational dislike to him and Ferrari - he has, to me, been around forever. The first GP I remember watching (which must have been the early nineties sometime as I definitely remember when Senna was alive) had him in. Another time, Schumacher was racing Hill, and that evening I wrote in my diary "Hill won!!!" I never liked Schumacher. Part of me knows that losing him in the sport heralds the end of an era. I used to watch F1 with my ex. He loved Damon Hill and Jean Alesi. Like me, he hated Schumacher. Even though we don't speak anymore, and I don't even know where he is in the world, our dislike of Schumacher would have given us something to talk about, on that mythical occasion when we'd meet in the street. It's so stupid I know, and maybe I'm just being silly because I'm ill and feverish, but then I started crying, and I feel cheated - yes, one last cheat from the master of deception, Michael Schumacher. But good luck to him, with his stolen wife and his future career, and let's get on with the 2007 Championship.

This evening #1's gentleman friend came round and I am trying not to colour my advice with the cynicism I feel inside, but it's hard. You can't say to people "I love you, will you be my girlfriend?" cos these things don't work like that. But everyone conveniently forgets, because surely it's not like with them, cos with them it's special, and this time it's perfect and everyone will live happily ever after.

Now I have had an argument on the phone and I have washed my hands a hundred times but they don't feel clean, and I really don't think I can go to work tomorrow. I am going to be sick and then lie down. Tomorrow is 11th September so you can expect some more craziness from me but not for any world trade centre reasons. Good night.

What is all this egg freezing nonsense?

This morning they took my blood and I felt very dizzy. I went to work and was asked if I'm having my leg amputated and why I looked like I'd been taking drugs. I put on more eyeliner. I feel WELL nauseous. No one is replying to my emails and my software stealing scheme has fallen flat as someone has beaten me to it. Last night something highly humiliating happened but I am trying to pretend it didn't. I am in love with David Bowie and the ginger one out of Girls Aloud.

dance magic dance

Amazing. I might have arthritis! This not-so-jolly news was somewhat nullified by listening to the Labyrinth soundtrack all the way to work. But arthritis, man. That sucks.

I found out that the boyfriend/girlfriend I mentioned the other day aren't actually going out. I was like "oh but you should!" only to be told that the boy is gay. I can fancy gay people though right? Even though he said that my face makes people laugh. Anyway, I don't see why homosexuality should get in the way of a perfectly good relationship. I mentioned this to G and he saw straight through it - not enough cocks, he reckons.

I'm sure I was going to write something else but I have been distracted by talk of the man with the limpest handshake in the world who some say has a problem with his glands but I say he has a problem with pies, the fat git. My friend reckons he is a she. Then I have been distracted by taking painkillers and having more fun in an office than you should really have. NSFW and all that. Then I fell over a chair cos I am wearing stupidly long trousers and omg omg omg grown up shoes!

"pretty and thick as two short planks - just how I like them"

I had so much to write today, but then I get to work and I look at BBC News and strewth, Steve Irwin is dead. This is outrageous. I mean, yeah, if you stick your head in a crocodiles mouth you're asking for trouble, and messing about with stingray is a bit stupid, and we won't speak of whatever these close encounters he had with penguins... but man, come on, this man is a legend. When I first started at uni, I had a picture of Steve on my door. It was one of my prized possessions. Then Kinash stole it from me. I know it was him because I went to his room and he had it on his wall. I asked for it back and he begged me - literally begged me - for it. Aged 23. But yeah, Steve Irwin, eh. It's a sad day. I immediately sought out all the Australians in the building. One of them is planning to build a memorial in Hyde Park with me (gold plated mechanical crocodiles, anyone?). Another one, a guy who does the maintenance, was like "I know, mate! My parents rang me this morning!" Amazing. It's hot antipodean news.

Anyway, the tragic news has somewhat eclipsed my news. Nah fuck it, it hasn't. I AM GOING TO ANTIGUA!! Amazing! 5* hotel, club class flight... This is the life for me. I haven't been on a plane that isn't Ryanair in years - in fact I don't know when. And I've certainly never been anywhere like Antigua. Actually, it may not be Antigua - it might be Jamaica. But still, you know, I can do Jamaica. I am so excited! A holiday, a proper bad ass holiday!

What happened this weekend? S and I went to Trafalgar Square on Friday night and saw my new favourite band, Desorden Publico. Venezualan political ska. And a man in a track suit. And a man with sunglasses who was deceptively hot. Chavez out! I want to learn Spanish too now.

On Saturday I bought a new school bag and some pretty near perfect black trousers (after looking for about 10 years now!), then went to Lidl and stocked up on amazing Lidl food like greek antipasti and olive oil and balsamic vinegar. I fucking love Lidl. It reminds me so much of the supermarkets in Germany except for one small difference - in supermarkets in the UK, they have sweets next to the checkouts. In Germany they have cigarettes. Far better if you ask me. Anyway, yeah, Lidl is ace. Apparently my dad loves Lidl and keeps finding excuses to go. Aldi is top too though. I got my stereo from Aldi (yeah, I have no shame) and it's lasted 7 years.

As I was getting ready to go out, I started feeling a bit weird, and then puked for half an hour. What's that about? This meant that I was late to meet G, which was annoying cos I'd been berating him about his general lateness (he was 3 hours late to meet me). We went up to Hackney to SB's house, where she was having a barbeque. Her house is really nice, very homely. I could just imagine there being a cat wandering around, and that's always a sign that I think somewhere is cosy. The people were all pretty cool too, even if some of them were deranged. There was this Japanese girl that G was trying to chat up, called Shinobobo or something like that. She said she'd been in London for 10 years but her English was shite. Also, she didn't really listen, so conversation was a bit rubbish (just the way G likes it though!). It was all fun and games at the barbeque although someone stole all the vegetarian sausages and there was an accountant there. SB's housemate kicked everyones ass at table football and I put Hadouken! on the stereo.

Then we went to Herbal and got fucked up on drugs. Got home about 4am and finally fell asleep about 9am. I woke up at 1pm in the most ridiculous amount of pain. My hip is not happy - I can only sleep on one side. My head hurt too and my room smelt of fags and orange squash (spilt all over my bed, damnit). I finally went back to sleep and woke up properly at 5pm, when I realised I had about a hundred missed calls, which culminated in a bit of an argument. Whatevs.

In a very pleasant end to the weekend, S and SB came round and we ate pizza and garlic bread (who says I'm a bad host?) and gaped in amazement at #5 who was taking pictures of the neighbours with a telephoto lens.

I don't know how I feel about things. But I don't really care. I was asked at the weekend how I feel at the moment. I thought for a minute and I realised that actually, things are awesome! Things are pretty darn amazing and I feel good. I like this. I am very sorry for not always being like this cos the new me can see that the old me must have been a pain in the arse. I'm going to try and stay a happy hats.

Here is a recent photo of me. I am well emo.