semi-professional unprofessionalism

Note to self - never drink again. Or, if the plan is to go out for ONE DRINK, then try and stick to it just a little bit, and don't leave the pub when it closes. My head is punishing me today.

It's been a nice week, although I've done approximately no work on either of my essays. I've also done no Chinese, no washing, no cleaning, and pretty much nothing constructive. I've spent a lot of time moping around though, so I dunno, that's good I guess. M came round for dinner on Thursday, which was lovely. We stayed up til late, talking in bed. It was like being a kid again, when you have a sleepover and you stay up til some ridiculous hour, whispering and giggling.

It turns out people have been gossiping about me at work! There's a surprise. At my last job, there were several rumours going round about me: firstly that I was some sort of sexual deviant... actually that was pretty much it, but there were variations on that. I was meant to have had a threesome, and I enjoyed being bitten and really short men. Ironically, when I actually DID do anything with a guy in the office, there wasn't too much gossip. Probably cos it's not so funny if it's true. Actually, there may well have been gossip. At the last christmas party I was told some stuff, but I was so shit faced that all I can remember is being very shocked and hoping that I'd remember in the morning - which of course I didn't.

ANYWAY. The current gossip is regarding my boyfriend, which is news to me as I wasn't aware I had one. An email apparently went round yesterday and everyone thinks I'm dating this guy. Amusing. He's really hot though so it could be a lot lot lot worse - it could be the man everyone thinks is a vampire, or the intensely irritating guy who sits opposite me, who I've had to put a pot plant in front of so I don't have to look at his face.

I just sneezed and maaaaaaaaan sneezing on a hangover is pain city.

I miss The Crucible and all the people in it. Though I don't miss my bonnet.

I should probably try and do something productive with my day.

lithium

Bizarre day. I pressed send/receive a MILLION times. I got depressed. I took a really long detour over to LSE so I could walk by the church. Then I nearly got run over by a cyclist who turned out to be a guy from work. I have realised that absolutely nothing is down to chance. Somehow it all happens for a reason, and that's at least some consolation when it comes to certain events in my past. I worry that I'm turning into crazy Andy sometimes, with his talk of coincidences, but at least I don't live in a hammock and never leave the house.

When I got home I had a revelation about post-structuralism and in particular how it can explain Irish history, and then of course I got super patriotic and started shouting at the TV: "give us back our country you bastards" But really. Give it back. Or at least learn a lesson, namely that if you invade/steal someone elses country, they will be ANGRY and then they will BOMB you. Ja.

This evening #1 and I cyber-stalked her boss. And sang along to Johnny Cash.

Things are okay? (no they're not)

THE CRUCIBLE is over... booo

Revelations a-plenty in the land of me (lambistan). My lungs sound like a 50 year old miner thanks to the dust in the crypt. I worry when I cough that a brick will come out.

I have been trying to sleep all day but have been woken repeatedly by my hip, which is clearly determined to destroy my life. My painkillers only woke when I take double the dose and then it makes my insides go OUCH. I complain too much.

On Thursday it was the first performance of the play and it was fucking AWESOME even though I threw up with nerves at work in the morning (aka I "did a Kevin"). It was the most amazing performance, and I got really hyperactive afterwards and was quite rude to my ex, although in fairness, he was wearing leggings. Me and G went to ULU, where M was in really fine fettle and tried to convince G to come and live in Hong Kong with us next year. For some reason we ended up at the 333, despite it being at the top of the list of places I never want to go to again (due to the events of December 2002 and the ensuing... what would you call it? calamity?). But it was alright, a girl kissed my forehead and told me I was beautiful. Aw, fanks.

Friday's performance lacked that thing that had made Thursday's so good - nervous tension maybe? I felt a bit funny cos of G, I think.

Yesterday's performance was cooler than cool, though. I feel so bereft without the play now. Though I don't miss my costume, or having to creep creep creep around because of the creaky boards. But ah, I miss my drama-family, and it will be weird to have evenings to myself again. What will I do? Actually I know what I'll do - I'll play my violin (tendonitis permitting) and I'll write my essays. I'm working full time from tomorrow. Urgh. But money = necessary. I'll miss the feeling of performing as well - that rush you get, and the feeling of disconnection to everything tangible and real. I remember now why I wanted to be a violinist. I get such a kick out of that adrenalin, the culmination of all that practice and mind-numbing technique and discipline... the way I feel so sick and like my head will blow off and just ALIVE.

After the performance, I went to the pub with my cousin, #1 and SB, and then me and my cousin went to the after party, though he didn't stay long. It was fun - I danced with A (whose mum said I was the best in the play! I was really chuffed until he told me that his mum can't really speak english. It's still cool though, I reckon), some girl took terrible terrible pictures of me, I snogged my friend, I did some karaoke, I did some fucking PUBLIC SPEAKING (is this the same me as a year ago?), and then some fuckwit stole C's phone so I walked her home. I got home just after 6.30 and couldn't sleep.

I feel a bit weird now to be honest. The prospect of no play, and full time work stretching ahead of me is unsettling. Snogging your friends is always a headfuck. I saw two out of three of my ex boyfriends this week. One of the lecturers at uni has asked me out. I don't know whether this is an abuse of position?

I need to do some violin practice before I am fed a roast dinner - mmmmmm domestic life is nice sometimes.

Okay, so I know I'm a complete failure. Can you please leave me alone now?

Tonight I started crying while we were watching TV and had to run away cos I am a loser. Now I am in my room - which I had started to tidy but now can't be bothered to finish - listening to the same song on repeat and drinking cups of tea.

Earlier I listened to loads of bhangra and danced around but now I feel flattened, and completely devoid of hope. I went to church today, which is unusual for me (it was a special occasion - I have not taken up religion, it's not like things aren't complicated enough) and the priest/vicar/whatever you call them said that the three most important things in life were: TRUST, HOPE and LOVE, of which love was the most important. I have none.

Here is a picture of me asleep in drama rehearsal. On a table.

Tonight, like last night, I'm going to sleep in #1's bed (she's away until thursday). I'm less inclined to do bad things if I sleep in there.

the curse is never broken

I can't say I'm feeling a whole lot better really. I don't know why I wrote that last post. It's not like I'm going to talk to anyone about it. I've talked to people I don't even know, on t'internet, and I've spoken to one person about it. He was very understanding - scarily so in fact, as I'm now worried to ever speak to him again for fear of what I might say next. He tried to convince me that I'm being irrational, but I genuinely believe that I'm being completely rational. I'm not stupid, I know what's going on. Whatever, it's FINE and even if it's not, I'll just lie and say it is. You know me, that's my thing.

I'm so tired, I want to sleep forever. I slept in the common room. Then I tried to sleep on a desk. Now I'm at home and I have made some conversation and done the only thing have any talent for (proofreading) and I'm so tired that I don't think I can sleep.

I want it all to go away. If I had read better books in my life I would be more articulate and I would be able to express myself through the medium of words rather than crying and being horrible to people and cutting myself. I don't think I have any words left. I am desolate. I am a disappointment. I am alone.

My body is a cage, to paraphrase the Arcade Fire

Perhaps it's time to be honest.

I'm completely freaked out. I started crying in the road because I have the largest struggle ahead, and I know that I know now what I have to do. I am absolutely terrified, because to do it, I would have to dismantle my life. And that is a horrific thought, even though I know it would be much better in the end. I don't know whether I can live with the literal "deconstruction". I certainly don't think I should inflict it on my housemates.

The truth of the matter - well, the truth, the truth.... Isn't that subjective? Enough joking, enough fooling around, with all my bravado and my bullshit. The truth is ugly.

Hi. I'm 22, I'm doing a Masters, which I'm doing terribly at. I have pretty much ZERO job prospects. I'm have bulimia. I cut myself. When I can't cut myself I find anything to hurt myself with. I have a problem with alcohol. I lie about all of this, to you all, to myself, to whoever.

I don't want to be like this anymore. I'm so tired. I want to sleep forever.

But I have to go and be sociable. I will pay for all this deceit.

You're riding that bike like a horse!!

I can't be bothered to write much, and my arms hurt, so this is just a quick one to say that the more I get to know people, and the longer I live in the world, the less I understand.

The exclamation mark is overrated.

I must remember not to eat cheese before bed. And especially not Cheesestrings (yeah yeah I know, not real food, whatevs). I had the weirdest dreams last night, where, amongst other things, I could have sworn that I was on a water bed. And I dreamt about sex a lot. I hate having such vivid dreams because it takes me ages to figure out what was a dream and what was real, and some things I never figure out. Damn medication is fucking with me.

Just now I felt like I was choking on something in my mouth, and it turns out that I had paper in my mouth. Which I suppose must mean that I've been eating paper in my sleep. When I was really really small, I started choking and my mum couldn't figure out what it was, and I turned blue because nothing was working... Until my mum put her finger in my mouth and found some cellophane. I suppose why there are always warnings to "keep away from children of under 36 months" (is that the object, or is that advice for life in general?). Still, that was my near death experience. My brother has much better stories.

This week's been pretty cool actually. I've done a lot of grammar, I learnt the word for shark, I had the most awesome talk with someone, I've hung out... Downsides (because there is inevitably is one): I haven't done much reading, I have done no washing/cleaning, one of my friends is being a bit weird with me, and the secret bad-thing is carrying on with no end in sight. Last night was fun, as M had us round for dinner and we have agreed to go to Paris in August, and to go camping sometime in June. I think M got a bit freaked out by so many girls in his house, talking about girl stuff. It was cool though, I like people at uni more and more. 越来越 , as I've been endlessly copying out recently.

Today I'm off to the countryside to hang out with my mum, who has fully recovered from the Auschwitz/chest infection/hallucination drama. It's little Lamb's birthday.

I need to read more books.