Sorry - is your name Joachim?

My god I am well lazy, I haven't updated this in ages, or what feels like ages anyway. I have been spending a lot of time as my alter-ego, "Hattie Lamb: Super Geek" which involves going to the library on a Sunday night (and coming away despairing, though not at work), and which culminated in sitting in the library last night, LAUGHING OUT LOUD at passages from Fairbank. Why?? He's not even funny. In fact, only the other day I was reading a critique of Fairbank calling him an imperialist apologist. But I did find it genuinely funny, especially the bit about a Chinese warlord being known as Old Sixty-Three as his (and I quote) "virile member when erect equaled a stack of sixty-three Yuan Shikai dollars". Comedy gold, though maybe I should get out more.

So I did - I went to the gym! As G has told me, I must be the saddest person he knows. He's coming to stay tonight, actually, though I can't really be bothered, although I know I should be nicer to him (yesterday he told me that I sometimes make him feel so unwelcome... I asked if this was true, and he said no... I was disappointed). Anyway, the gym. I thought I was going to die. I also nearly fell off the treadmill again as I was talking to B and C and pretending that I wasn't knackered, and I started laughing and that was nearly the end. Afterwards, we walked over to the Mao graffitti and I taught them some cockney rhyming slang. I well love my coursemates, which is completely novel and totally surreal, given that I was pretty much scared of my coursemates at LSE.

I have realised that it's not so much that the boy I love doesn't know I exist. He does know I exist. It's just that I don't think he could even summon up indifference towards me. Not, of course, that I am doing myself any great favours, seeing that I refuse to talk to him. I am such a social retard at times. Last night #1 and I sat in the kitchen and we tried to formulate a plan, of which the summary was basically "don't act like a chump your whole life". Seeing as I managed EXACTLY that yesterday when I saw him, I wouldn't say the chances of success of any kind are high.

In other news, we had to read an article on Monday by a historian called Michael Hunt. Cue: "in Mike Hunt's passage; I really like Mike Hunt; Mike Hunt was a little dry; have you seen Mike Hunt?" We are possibly the most immature postgraduates ever.