The rest of my ramble

Well, I hope you all enjoyed the cliffhanger. I honestly don’t know how any of you slept. Actually, if I’m really being truthful, I don’t know why anyone reads this at all. Especially people who read it while sitting next to you, despite the fact that they were with me most of the weekend. Still, there’s nothing like instant feedback, so I’m quite pleased really. Apparently I’m funny. I’d tend to disagree. I’m actually really un-funny, I just have occasional flashes of wittiness that only serve to make me realise how lame I am the rest of the time… I was going to put an example there but I can’t think of the last time I genuinely made people laugh, and not by doing something stupid (laughing out of pity doesn’t count).

My god, I’m going to have to make more a conscious effort not to sound completely emo. Cos that ain’t cool.

Not sounding too emo shouldn’t be too hard today though. Despite being at work for the first time in nearly a week, I’m in a very good mood. Even the letter from the Student Loans Company telling me I have to start giving them money hasn’t ruined my mood (though I’m sure that will happen later when I start vomiting from stress AGAIN). And the reason for my good mood? Well, a very beautiful boy who makes me feel all warm inside.

Anyway, before I start making myself feel sick with my “awww, he’s so lovely” non-stop babbling, I will go back to what I was saying yesterday…

So yes, NOIZE. What a load of shit. Really really awful. If it hadn’t been so damn far from home, and I’d made such a bloody effort to get there (well, taken two buses), I would have just gone home. Instead I was chain smoking other peoples cigarettes outside with S and N. I was in the same year as N at uni but we only spoke once, and that was after graduation. It makes me realise how antisocial I was- which I suppose was partly my fault but also probably largely attributable to the fact that my ex was over domineering and didn’t approve of me talking to anyone. Anyway, the one time N had spoken to me, he told me he liked my dress. I had to think really hard about what dress it was and even what night it was, but that’s because I am an alcoholic with the memory of a goldfish.

We decided that we couldn’t take anymore of the god-awful din and went to the pub instead, where they had non-organic lager and normal music and seats. It was like heaven. Afterwards we walked back to S’s. I knew the way (it’s down one road = not hard) but S wanted to take a taxi. According to M, she always wants to take taxis and sometimes he has to trick her into walking by saying that they’ll get a taxi in 100 metres. I’m not fussed about walking but S and N complained all the way home and N inadvertently called my grandpa an imperialist, which I thought was a bit funny. Despite it being a Sunday night and quite late, we decided that it would be fine to carry on drinking. I’ve been quite good about this recently, so I’m not too worried about my, admittedly, terribly cavalier attitude towards work. Or so I say. I’m really rambling all over the place today, which is probably why I haven’t managed to get much done today.

Anyway, vodka was procured from 24-hour shop, despite policeman being in the shop and we drank and were generally merry. I talked a lot and tried to forget my paranoia and even managed to temporarily convince myself that I wasn’t talking rubbish. My brother emailed me and I emailed back a drunken response that didn’t really explain what the hell I was talking about. N kissed me in the kitchen, which wasn’t the most romantic setting or anything, but it was so lovely because he’s so lovely. We both had to be awake for work in the morning, so S said we could sleep in her room and she would sleep on the white water raft airbed in M’s room. Of course we didn’t really sleep and we had to call in sick in the morning. I felt a bit bad for commandeering S’s bed. I’ve never done that to anyone before, though I have had someone shag in my bed before. That was after the random night in Walthamstow I very obliquely mentioned in an entry the other day (basically, after spending a night in one of the nastiest bars ever, I said people could come back to mine. My friend and some guy she’d met on the internet ended up shagging in my bed, while I drank bottle after bottle of wine with some random school teacher I’d never met before… then the next day I had to meet my mum and she told me she’d never seen me look so rough, which I thought, while honest, wasn’t entirely necessary). Anyway, I felt bad but S says she doesn’t mind, which means that she is lovely.

S and I made some tea and went to get some food while N slept, and then we read the papers and I got jittery from nerves and coffee, though I like to think I kept a lid on it rather nicely… ha ha ha. When we went upstairs to wake up N, he said he was worried when he woke up and I wasn’t there because he thought he’d dreamt me. Which I thought was odd because that’s sort of how I felt too. There’s nothing like sitting in the common room to make you wonder whether you actually just created a huge fantasy in your head and that you’re basically just screwed now because you’ve started being happy about something only to realise that YOU MADE IT UP! Oooh, look, there’s another emo outpouring.

After being laughed at by everyone (some of whom were apparently listening at the door!!), I decided I felt like shit and should go home before I got really grumpy and crap. N walked me to Euston, even though I was the worst possible company and thought I was going to pass out at the bus stop. So lovely. Then I got the bus home and kind of fell asleep, but one of those sleeps where you suddenly come to and realise that you’ve been staring at your magazine so long that you’ve memorised what Nico Rosberg’s elbow looks like. I was going to go to sleep, but instead I tidied my room and did some washing and drank lots of tea. #1 called me from Gatwick airport and we decided to go to the pub. It was truly lovely to see her and I hadn’t realised how much I’d missed her. She’d brought back loads of lovely food from Milan so we cooked a huge meal, but not before she accidentally stabbed me with her keys. Then I drank a double espresso and fell asleep.

Tuesday… had the day off and got my hair cut. Not many people have noticed it, to be honest. About half the people in the office- and not the ones I would have thought of. I think it looks quite cool, though I’m sure in a week or so it will have pissed me off immensely and I’ll be thinking about shaving it again. Afterwards, I went to give blood, and managed not to be sick. The feeling of the tube with your blood in resting against your arm is really odd, you can feel it pumping… urgh. Halfway through, my blood stopped pumping, which prompted all the nurses to come over and prod my arm. My arm was already feeling a bit sore because of all the prodding to actually find a vein (I’d be such a terrible junkie). I asked if it meant that I was dead, but they said no.

Yesterday, as I said, I called in sick and went to LSE and hung out with S. over our disgusting lunch (the one that inspired bulimia), we discussed N and I tried to figure out if he liked me. This was the point that S said I was paranoia personified. I then said the lamest thing in the whole world. LITERALLY. I said: “Things are good at the moment. Maybe I shouldn’t see him ever again, so then I can’t fuck it up and it can’t go wrong, and things will always be great in my head” Quite rightly, she laughed at me and called me emo.

And then last night, despite being full of nervous energy (I couldn’t sit still and kept pestering S with questions about whether I looked stupid), N came round and it was lovely lovely LOVELY. So now I am a happy lamb.

I just found something really funny while doing a wikipedia search for “emo”… a link to this website: www.fourfa.com

My god, I don’t want to be like that. I hope I’m not like that… right?

Oh well, it’s not like it’s going to ruin my good mood. I think I might just swivel around on my chair for a while and think about kissing N.