The long awaited update

This morning I was woken up by #5 telling me that she needed the bathroom. I thought this was odd, but on opening my eyes it became apparent that I was in fact in the bathroom. Curled up under the sink. With my duvet.

If anyone could explain this to me, that would be awesome. I have no recollection of how I got there.

Today I met up with N, which was nice. I hadn't seen him in months and months, and it was cool to catch up, of which there was plenty to do. He didn't know about me moving to Hong Kong, about the Daisy thing, or anything about SOAS. I thought it might be a bit weird, but it wasn't actually. Though it's always a bit weird to spend time with someone who you used to know well, an that you spent lots of time with. You feel a bit like you're watching your old life through a window. I certainly didn't feel I could be as open with him as I am with some of my other friends, though I never did feel I could. It feels weird now that we were so inseperable, as we actually don't have a lot in common. Even the way we see things is completely different. Quite dramatically so. Nonetheless, it was fine, and we had lunch (where I stuffed my face, student that I am) and then we went to the Hogarth exhibition at the Tate. I don't know a lot about art, or Hogarth specifically, though I did see a programme on TV once that featured "Gin Lane". I liked the more satirical stuff, and wasn't a huge fan of the paintings of the rich and famous. N said that the paintings looked bad because all the people were English and pale and therefore unattractive, which I thought was a bit rude considering that I am one of the palest people I know.

Anyway, the week has been quite fun. On Monday I went to V's gig, which was fun. P's mum was there too, so I got to meet her. She's adorable! It was cool to meet P's friends as well, and to spend some bloody time with him, which I haven't managed since he retreated into the world of the essay of doom. V was on top form, both playing/singing and generally. On Tuesday there was nearly a fracas in my Mandarin class. Our teacher isn't very nice to us :o( It was all quite eventful. Later on, in my Anthropology class, we got to talk about sex. You'd think that would be perfect for me, but actually it wasn't. I got quite bored, and then I got annoyed because some people were looking at me like I was a depraved whore, completely lacking any morals. This wasn't exactly what I was looking for given that I'm feeling pretty shit about myself lately. To be honest, I don't think I ever want to have sex again. I have lost all my motivation to do anything, and I certainly don't feel attractive. I mean, I look okay, I'm dressing reasonably well at the moment (well, nothing indecent and nothing too childish), I have nice hair (though need to dye my roots).... But I don't feel attractive sexually. I guess I could just about have sex with G, because that's more familiar than actually sexual. This is a really sad state to be in at the age of 22.

Tuesday and Wednesday passed in a sort of uni-work-drama rehearsal blur, though I did manage to fall asleep in the common room. On Thursday it SNOWED so it was all very exciting, plus the inevitable transport chaos that left me standing at the train station for over an hour. My toes were so cold that I thought they might have to be amputated. I told work that this was a joke, and that I would be in the next day, and they said fine. So I set off for SOAS (I had to be there in 5 hours, so thought it best to get started early), and on the way I bought some clothes. Mmmm Uniqlo. If I can lose about half a stone then my new clothes will look lovely. Anyway, went to class, went to Kings Cross and was able to get a train absolutely fine because there was no bloody snow at all, and I got a little bit confused that maybe I had imagined it all??

The best thing of the week was that I went to see my youngest brother in a music competition, and he won!! He played amazingly. I nearly cried, I was so proud of him. He's not little anymore, he's a proper adult, and he's so talented. I'm proud of both my brothers and I'm very happy to have them both. (I never believed I would think that!!)

The sweepstake

We've started the Camp Mansions Lay-a-Man Sweepstake.

Every month we have to put in a quid, as well as whatever else we can find, and the first one of us to get laid gets the whole lot! It has to be a new conquest, and charity shags don't count. We haven't discussed rohypnol but I guess that's not allowed either. It has to be full sex, not just a blow job.

I really want to win! But the chances are slim...

lovers on the backseat

Meh I feel weird. And my headphones are broken. I did something really stupid yesterday but I don't actually feel that bad about it, I feel quite good. Which is bad, cos if you knew what it was, you would think I was a complete moron. Which is why I'm not telling anyone.

Last night I went to A's house, where we ate lots of cheese and cake and stuff. On the way home, there was a group of people who'd obviously been out clubbing and were pretty spangled, on their way to the 414 (a sure sign of being spangled) and they were playing music out of their phones and trying to rave to it. One of them told a joke: "What kind of key can open any door?" - answer: "A pikey". I found this funny cos they all had proper Essex accents and I know not a few people would have called them pikey.

Today I went to Brockwell Park and it was awesome. There's a lake, a secret garden, a cafe, some swans, a BMX park, and a miniature railway!!!!! I can't believe I've lived here over a year and have only been to the park three times. Tomorrow I might take my thermos and a book.

I am so bored.

yo yo pot pot

I think the novelty of having a job is wearing off. I wish it was summer and I could sit around and read books and be teh intellectual (I started reading Rousseau but already I think he's a bit of a nob, despite my condemnation yesterday for criticism as a negative influence on society). Good thing about my job is that I don't have to look smart. Just as well, as I managed to tip hot oil over my only smart trousers. I knocked over the frying pan and burnt my leg, which was quite funny as #1 had to take my trousers off.

Yesterday I had a really nice day, but the comedy highlight was when I was asked by my potential future housemate (and possible future husband) whether I was a feminist. Welcome to my world.

In other news, singing Queen on the tube will get you funny looks. Try it.

Hmph.

OMFG I can't believe how rude and selfish #2 is.

Anyway, back to the foray.

Mmmmm books

I don't know what's wrong with me, why my moods change so much. Last night, on the way home, I felt really positive. I have a job, I've handed in all my work on time, I have a (semi) strategy to resolve how crap I am at Chinese, and things are going swimmingly with my friends, even the friendships I thought I'd fucked up through a combination of drunkenness and stupidity. I was looking at London by night from the top deck of a double decker bus, listening to music, and I thought, hey, this isn't too bad.

P seems to have made a reappearance, which is good. I thought his essay had actually swallowed him up. I kept talking complete gibberish to him, as I'd only had 3 hours sleep (essay) and I was happy to see him. Later on I started ranting on about how crap it is to be a girl, what with the fallings out girls have, and the bitchiness that is on the one hand expected, and on the other hand, completely criticised. I wouldn't want to be a guy either, which I think is quite a destructive tension in my life. I tried to explain this to P but I don't think he understood what I was talking about. Sometimes I just want to talk to (or is that "at"?) him for ever, because he's insightful at the same time as actually being far more innocent than I feel. That probably doesn't make much sense. I'm going to try and stop being such a mentalist all the time. I'm sure he's sick of me crying. (I'm sick of me crying)

Yesterday I actually felt warm for the first time in ages. The Bierodrome in Angel has a fire, and leather armchairs. All that was missing was a cat, curled up, and a tumbler of whiskey, and maybe some comfy slippers and a pipe. I suggested marshmallows but M told me I was americanising the experience. But as L said, he's German and he would probably try and stick sausages on the fire. We were talking about how we want to bring up kids in the countryside. Sometimes I feel so old. Youth of today, etc.

A called me earlier (but I was sleeping). He wants to go for coffee. I've decided to go because I'm civil like that, and cos it's on the way into town, where I'm going to the Oxfam Books and Music in Marylebone. Anyway, otherwise I would just stay in my room all day and cry and listen to German electronica. Yeah, cos I'm cool like that. Why do I feel so miserable? Shoot me please.

My essay is a pile of wank.

Oh crap. I have an essay due tomorrow at 4pm. I've written 600 words, but seeing as at 10am today I'd written nothing, and in between then and now I've been to uni and been to a job interview. Oh, and I cut my hair again. I nearly cut my ear. At uni I was told I looked spruce. Heh. I only look in any way smart when I'm standing still. I fell down the stairs and now I have a limp. My hip is really painful, walking up slopes is tricky, which may mean I have to change my route home, to avoid Kings Cross station.

Jeez, why am I writing this? Like it's interesting. Hmm.

Got the job, I start on Wednesday. Yay for employment.

Oh, and it's official. I have a proper crush on the guy I had the sex dreams about. I saw him today and I was all bashful and it was a bit awkward in a nice way. He told me that I suck and that I'm a loser. But he was joking. I hope he was joking. I told my friend that I like him, in a very obscure way, but I think she's in some way psychic cos she knew. I also confessed to googling him. Hahahahah.

I hate my essay.

My winter "look" is getting a bit boring now, thanks

I keep having sex dreams about this guy I go to uni with. He's really cool. Obviously I haven't told him about the sex dreams. He told me something a while ago and I didn't believe it but I googled it and it's true!! I was very excited.

I haven't even started my essay yet. My main problem with it is that I just don't care.

I've started wearing a blanket in the library as the heating is broken. I look really homeless.

In Soviet Russia, flu will catch you!

Oh man, I am so bored. On Thursday I kind of collapsed at school and then had the journey from hell trying to get home, what with London having fallen in on itself in the wind. #1 made me some lemsip and I stayed up to watch the 10 o'clock news, then went to bed with a hot water bottle. Then I slept until about 5pm today, only waking up to take ibuprofen and to try and actually breathe. Flu is nasty.

Today I have been up and about a little. I went to Sainsbury's to buy the Guardian because they had whale stickers - yay. Watched a film. I tried to smoke a cigarette. I pondered the dream I'd had about a boy I probably shouldn't have been dreaming about, but why did I not realise how cute he was before? I also had a dream about the Pope so I guess I shouldn't read too much into my dreams.

You know those boxes of wine you can get? On Saturday night I stayed in and drank one of those by myself (2 litres, yes). I was remarkably productive and installed some stuff on my computer, had a mass cull of all the music I own but despise, and sorted out 3 drawers worth of junk I'd been carrying around. Then I was sick, really really violently sick, though I'm a seasoned drinker so I made it to the bathroom for that one. Result.

On Sunday/Monday the ongoing text drama continued with him saying "it was a joke" and "I like you" and me asking the girls on my course (who are great, by the way) what I should do, and in the end sitting in the SCR slagging off men.

I went to the ballet. Not the racist ballet (the ENB), I saw the Royal Ballet doing La Sylphide. It was awesome (but I suck at writing about ballet, so maybe I'll attempt it when I feel more well). In the interval, I was practising some hanzi and the man sat next to me asked what I was writing, and I told him it was a critical essay about some Tang dynasty poems. He was very impressed. As I would be if there was even a chance in HELL of me being able to write anything more than the juvenile scribblings I'm currently capable of.

On Tuesday I laughed a lot at my ineptitude, then went to my anthropology class where I sat on the floor and gazed adoringly at my new favourite teacher (he's so cool). Then this woman said the most stupid thing and I involuntarily had a sort of head-desk moment. P has since informed me that EVERYONE noticed, even the people who couldn't actually see me. Look, did I say I had social graces? No, so don't FLAY me for it.

G came to visit and he laughed at my poor taste in men (specifically, he informed me that the boy I maintain is truly beautiful is "nothing special"), and we had a lovely time not really doing very much. The others came home from work the next day and announced that we looked very loved up, and I guess we felt like that a bit cos he nearly missed his train cos we were kissing. Only real bad point was when we were play fighting and my hips got stuck. He said that he would still come and visit even if I was a cripple. Cos I'd still be able to have sex. I asked if he'd still see me even if I couldn't have sex, and he said he would. It's all very sweet, though really, it's meaningless.

I have decided I like computers. I think I would like to know more about computers if only so I could pretend I was clever when in fact I have come SOOOOOO close to stapling my ID card in the stupid automatic stapler thing.

A message I recieved this afternoon

In life we must produce and deal with substantial amounts of bullshit. Part of this process invloves lying, being lied to and tolerating or feigning tolerance for people who, in an ideal world, would be strangled at birth. If you know of an alternative to this perspective please let me know. Otherwise perhaps you could at least pretend you like my friends. I mean if I can do it I'm sure you can. Hope you're well.

This is bollocks, right? Firstly, what the fuck, who are you to tell me how I should act? Secondly, don't be a hypocrite and say YOU can do something when clearly you have TOLD ME that you have done the absolute opposite. Thirdly, what is this sanctimonious attitude?? I'm sorry I didn't like your friends - they were boring. That girl looked a fucking state as well and if I had to draw a picture of desperation, it might look like her (good teeth though). I wasn't rude to her. I did talk to your friends, even the one who was wearing 1980s aerobics clothes. I was civil. But that's as much as you're going to get out of me, especially on a Friday night, especially in Shoreditch, especially considering all the things that don't need to be said.

I don't know. You know, I'm SO SORRY I'm a social retard. You know me, you know how I am. You even pointed out that I change from one thing to another so you damn well do know how it is. If you bought anything I said about how happy I am and how I'm "an amazing human being" then more fool you as I only say that because it's a very very old in-joke and for fuck's sake, open your eyes, is this really a happy face? Yeah, I can be a bitch. So can you. So can everyone.

Anyway, I totally disagree with the whole idea of tolerating people. Why not be around people you actually like? I'm not being paid to talk to these people, it's not WORK godammit. Social niceties are a load of bollocks - why not be nice to nice people and mean to mean people? I'm fucking CIVIL to people I don't like. I would do anything for my friends. I'm not a bad person. Don't castigate me for having opinions that you don't like.

Next Friday I think I'll stay in and do my TAX RETURNS.

Bucket seal is not amused....

Honk if you're lonely tonight

- Wake up Potta! I'm going to see a rapist. Should I take the 37 bus?

Awoken from a bad sleep, I give #1 a hug and lock the door behind her. I contemplate eating something and eventually decide to eat a bread roll. Food has lost all appeal. I haven't eaten carbs properly in about a month. I am well aware that this is a problem but there is nothing I can do about it.

Morning television sucks. I don't know, it just seems like life is a series of cheap shots. I go back to bed, and retrieve my copy of Charlotte Gray from where it has got trapped between the bed and the wall, and try and get lost in the book.

The phone rings. I ignore it. Then I remember my resolution to answer my phone a bit more often. It's #1. She couldn't find the rapist. She comes home and we have coffee. She's angry and sad. I want to help but I don't know what to say. She leaves to go back to work and I wander about in my room, aimlessly picking things up and listening to TV on the Radio.

Yesterday I spoke to G and he laughed at me for being such an alcoholic, though it's not really funny. I told him about P. He laughed at me again, cos he thinks I'm being ridiculous about the whole thing. He says I should be more proactive. "'No' is so negative," he told me. "It's far easier to say 'yes'." I didn't tell him about A, I don't know why.

S thinks it sounds like a fairytale but I think it sounds like yet another fuck up on my behalf.

Last night I got out all my old photos and I laughed so hard that my stomach hurt. Today it's not quite so funny and I'm getting tired of feeling so rundown. I can't go back to bed because I have a test tomorrow. I don't want to do the test because I lose at Chinese, but I console myself with the thought that things will get better.

oh christ

Despite the whole no-drinking-in-january idea, I've now completely fucked it up. On Saturday I was meant to be writing my essay, but after the trip to Asda, I decided to have a glass of wine. A bottle later and I'm watching Top Gun on the sofa.

I finally finished the essay and handed it in yesterday (for what it's worth, it's shite). I planned to return my books and then go home and do things like EAT and SLEEP as I hadn't managed either in a while. But I bumped into F so we went to the bar. We discussed singaporean sex. Then D came along, I chatted to French-A and I was getting a bit hyperactive cos it was lovely to see everyone. Anyway, was feeling a bit pissed and thinking about going home and limiting the inevitable social carnage. Then my friend from secondary school, A, turned up, who I haven't seen in six years. It was so cool, he's amazing, and it was so funny reminiscing about everything. Long story short (my head hurts too much to write at the moment), I got very drunk, hung up on G despite him calling to ask how the essay had been (I am a bitch) said god knows what to P (doooooooooooooooooom), asked M if he wanted to come round for dinner, then went to a pub with A and had a fight with his friend and then went home and continued the drunken drivel about spreadsheets this time, and then me and A had sex.

This is despite me saying to F earlier that I couldn't be bothered to have sex cos it involved taking my clothes off.

I have yet more injuries, and managed to lose both my ring and an earring. Plus I completely spazzed up my dad's birthday and possibly my entire life. But I think it would be okay if I knew what the fuck wtf wtf wtf wtf wtf is going on and can I touch you again please?

A very brief update

As S has demanded an update, this will have to do...

My black eye has faded and I'm left with a scab, which I'm trying hard not to pick, cos I'm charming like that. It's still quite sore. I have a cold and I have snot in my ears according to the doctor.

I am in essay purgatory. It's due on Monday, I've written NOTHING and yesterday I had a complete change of heart and decided that I am a post-structuralist and now I am trying to alter my entire essay plan and I'm kind of wishing I'd read more Western philosophy as the crux of my essay seems to be me slating it in its entirity. Err yes. I've read Chinese anthropologists and philosophers though and I'm slating their Western-ness too. I am soooooooooooooooooooooooo SOAS.

So I'm in my room surrounded by papers, listening to Holst. I haven't been sleeping well as I have a cold and can't breathe all that great. We're going to the Asda in Clapham tonight as a break from studying (and cos we only have the car for a little longer and need to stock up on food). I think they're trying to fatten me up cos I've lost so much weight.

I need to go and define footnotes, referencing and bibliography for P. And then try and find the departments essay regulations, like WHERE DO I HAND IT IN and other such related things, which can be summarised by the phrase: WHY IS SOAS SO UNORGANISED? I almost miss Carol Toms (LSE International History bitch of the century).

2007 so far...

Day 1 of 2007

Picture the scene. It's 8 am. I am awoken by a strange noise, which on opening one eye, I see to be my mobile, vibrating on the wooden floor. I ignore G's calls. I try to go back to sleep, but something seems strange. I slowly realise that I am not in my bed. I am on the sofa, with a rug on top of me. I am wearing my pants, some socks (which I clearly put on in the night as I had been wearing tights), and a yellow towel that isn't mine. This seems strange. I get up, as I might as well get a bit warmer, the towel and the rug not quite hitting the spot. I go into my room and find a nightie. I spy an upended glass of water on my bed. I briefly wonder why it's there but decide that these sorts of questions can wait til later. My room is a pig sty. Someone - maybe me, maybe little fairies - has emptied two of the drawers onto the floor. I leave my room before I notice anything else. In the bathroom, I try to take out my contact lenses but I only poke myself in the eye, and in doing so I vaguely recall throwing them on the floor the night before. Speaking of eyes, only one of mine can open. I peer closer into the mirror and see that I have a long red mark across my forehead - some sort of scratch - and a black eye. With blood on it. I go back to the sofa and get the spare duvet, and go back to sleep.

I am as yet uncertain as to how I got the black eye but it's very painful and swollen. I don't appear to have any other injuries, which is unusual as I normally bruise at least one of my limbs on a night out. New years eve was lots of fun with #1, with possibly too much brandy being consumed, plenty of dancing ON A TABLE (oh yes), and ohmigod we called the German a Nazi. I met a very sweet girl who told everyone she was my aunt, then I kissed some random man who I then spent ages ignoring cos I wanted to dance to the Ghostbusters theme tune. My phone informs me that I called P at 2.33 but I have no recollection of this, and he's now not answering my texts.

Day 2 of 2007

Contrary to all my new years resolutions, I have thus far spent the day in bed reading Jane Eyre. I have eaten a Flake and two mini Milky Ways. I have also spent a not inconsiderable amount of time looking at funny pictures of cats. I really need to do some washing.

oh hi i upgraded your RAM

A few days after xmas and I'm still at my parents house. I could get quite used to this. I have been sleeping 14 hours a day, having cups of tea made for me, and eating lots of fancy cheese and lebkuchen. It's quite warm here, I can have 2 hour baths, I have been playing my violin a little bit and they have modern stuff like broadband and phone reception and mains drainage and stuff (this is quite new). Occasionally I do something productive like unload the dishwasher, but mainly I potter around and pluck my eyebrows and paint my toenails, or just sit and look at the xmas tree. I am becoming really knowledgeable about computers and can make computer jokes and everything. I'm such a geek.

On the downside, I have done no work. I've done a bit of Mandarin, but only a little. I haven't even touched the foreign policy books I brought with me, and still haven't thought about my other essay, which may have to be on modernity as it's the only topic I even vaguely remember. I miss my friends. I miss my music and I lie in bed listening to my mp3 player to get to sleep. I miss #1 a lot. I miss P a lot. I miss having a pint in the Commercial. I miss London. It's very quiet here. I wouldn't mind going home so I can change some clothes and go to the doctors and flirt with the barman and eat some proper vegetables, like cabbage. LOL.

I got really nostalgic the other day about how things were when I was 18. Not really in a good way. Things were rubbish. I can't believe G cheated on me. Arseface. And then things with my ex- I was so obsessed with him, in not a very healthy way. But we did have lots of good times, and it's hard at the moment to resist calling him to say hi. If he's in the country. Obviously I wouldn't actually call him, as he's BAD NEWS and if he's in the country, he should have called me first. And what would I say to him anyway?

Enough of that. I got some cool presents, including a tool kit, a plastic dinosaur and glow-in-the-dark fridge magnet letters. I have put some on the radiator in my bedroom. They say ARSE COCK WANK. My mum was not amused but I think it's generally been accepted that I have some sort of tourettes. Today we're going to Milton Keynes to go to Ikea and Marks and Spencers. It's going to be awesome.

Early Xmas

I shouldn't be here still but I slept all day. I have packed some books and can't find any socks.

On Thursday it became apparent that I'd missed going to the library, but it turned out to be a good day as #1 and I went to the pub, where I got the number of the barman. #1 says that he fancies me. I'm not sure, but then I'm a spaz when it comes to this. She kept trying to make me say stuff and concoct excuses to speak to him, but I'm really not very good at this whole thing. I texted him yesterday, he's texted back. We'll see.

Then we came home and I cooked a mushroom risotto, which was DELICIOUS, but then I sliced the top of my finger open grating parmesan. It bled for 2 days. Including on the living room rug.

I'm going to try and update this while I'm at my parents. I seriously can't live without the internet nowadays. There was a problem yesterday and I thought I would go mad through boredom. Hah. I lose.

Brrr. No really. Brrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Fuck me it's freezing. I'm wearing two jumpers and two pairs of socks and I'm still really cold. I'm glad I spent all day in bed. Essays - nah. Staying under the duvet watching episodes of a show about some Canadian white trash - yeah, like all the way. It's super-foggy outside too. I seriously doubt I will be going out again until spring or something.

Last night G came round and we went to the pub. #1 came along too and we got far more smashed than I thought we would. I climbed on top of #1 and told her I loved her and we kept exclaiming how much we'd missed each other. She reckons that if one of us had been male, we would be so well suited to each other. How crap would it be if your soulmate (or similar less-cheesy sounding alternative) was the wrong gender to fancy you, or you them? Though it would be about my luck. I seem to have a real thing about unrequited love. Actually, my "love life" (and I think the quotation marks are fitting) is somewhat of a joke. I could write a really good book. When I get dumped for the immortal words "I'm going to marry my cousin", I don't blink as this has become NORMAL. My ex boyfriend was a compulsive liar. And I've just realised that this is applicable to all of my exes. Fuck. Dying alone suddenly doesn't seem like such a bad idea when you think about it.

Anyway, things with G took some amusing turns as he accidentally let slip in the pub that he'd cheated on me. I got really sad cos I suddenly wondered whether he'd loved me at all - though I know he did. Hmm. He won't tell me who it was but I have my suspicions. He also said that despite the fact that I screwed him over (when I met someone I thought was (and still suspect could be) the love of my life), he still thinks I'm trustworthy and that I've never done anything bad to him. This is quite clearly a lie. Then he said that he liked me. Erm then I was sick. No actually. So we left and went home and cooked a pizza and G got really stoned and I had to feed him water cos he couldn't do it himself, and then we fell asleep and hugged all night.

But this is no fairy tale happy ending as he will be shagging someone else by tomorrow. And although we quite clearly love each other in some sort of retarded way, and we spent the day watching tv and hugging and kissing and being stupid, it doesn't actually mean anything as I don't think I really mean anything to him. This makes me a bit sad.

However. And there is always a however. However, G has been giving me dating (or "snaring") advice and his verdict: I am in with a chance. So we'll see, despite the fairly unanimous conclusion that I will never do anything about it, as "it's too late" (G's words) and "I'm a spaz" (my words).

It's been quite a week of revelations as I was informed that NO my brother was not named after the guy who lived across the road from us, he's named after my grandpa. Also, did you know that in the countryside they don't have mains gas? I feel like Town Mouse whenever I go to the countryside.

Christmas preparations still stand at zero.

You know it's been a good night out when you find pictures like this on your phone in the morning:

Festivities WOOOO!

Last night I went to the CRE christmas party. I think I was invited as I was the most likely to make a complete tit of myself. And I didn't disappoint. Oh my god I am such a loser. I had to do the walk of shame this morning. I also keep remembering odd snippets of the evening - such as when I tried to DJ, when I did some really comedic dancing, when I decided to lie down on a yoga mat in the corporate office, when I told someone that my name was Shitting Bear and generally OH DEAR. My one consolation is that I no longer work there so I don't have to do a repeat of last year when I traipsed in still in my dress to the sound of jeers from my erstwhile colleagues, who then started that persistent rumour about the threesome which DIDN'T HAPPEN. Anyway. Someone told me something about the guy I was seeing back then but I can't remember what it was other than that he had sex with someone who I think was my friend. I could be imagining this. He had "an underdeveloped torso", according to R, so yeah I win. Errr yeah I got quite shit faced cos it was free wine and I called someone a psycho without realising they were standing behind me. I also stole someones hat. I do that quite a lot. Hmm. So yes lots of wine and a stolen crate of beer and smoking in peoples offices and KISSING and drugs and today my face really hurts.

I am like sooooooooooooo not going to the library today.

Can I go and pet the alpacas?

I'M BACK!!! Did you miss me? Since getting home I have danced around my room to the Lightning Seeds. Man, I love the Lightning Seeds. G called me up asking if he could come round and I said NAH cos I'm going to a PARTY and then when I hung up I thought oh BOO I should have said yes as I could do with a hug. He is currently refusing to get me a christmas present though we have come to a compromise where if I give him 15p he will buy a mini bottle of gin and steal me the first-class in-flight magazine. Oh SPOIL me why don't you.

The countryside was cool. Well, it was cold. I played my violin and ate a lot of cake. I was a bit stupid. Today I played the piano and I think I would like to play the piano a lot more but a) I don't have one and b) I am really lazy.

I think I'm going to have to radically rethink the whole what-do-I-pack-for-Hong-Kong idea as for ONE WEEKEND I filled a whole suitcase. I think I won't take any shoes. Plan.

chota-cock

In the morning I am off to the country... woohoo! So far I have packed a pair of shoes, my phone charger, a textbook, a woolly hat, painkillers, some kimchi and some green tea. I suspect that this is not quite enough.

My migraine seems to have gone, thank god. I kept blacking out and feeling feverish. My mum reckons it's cheese and dark chocolate, but I had ONE SQUARE of greens and blacks on Monday, and I don't really eat much cheese anymore. I still don't feel quite right - my muscles ache and I'm extremely tired. And I keep having nosebleeds. This is annoying.

In class today our teacher taught us useful phrases for bribery. He is seriously the coolest teacher ever. My friend said that she would fancy him if he was younger, more attractive and less Chinese. He wears slippers in class and is a little bit offensive, but really funny. Then I went to the common room where I fell asleep while reading. Actually it was the same book I was reading the other day when I fell asleep. I woke up half an hour later and P was sitting opposite me. He'd been there for 15 minutes. I asked if I'd been snoring, and he said no, but I'd been dribbling (I hadn't - I checked). Still, how nice is he for not waking me up? Most of my other friends would have done something mean to me, like I dunno, wake me up or jump on me or draw on me. We talked about christmas for a while and then went to get pizza and I realised I am going to miss him so much over the holidays.

I'm getting quite obsessed with True Romance. I know many of the lines off by heart now and I've downloaded some of the music. I remember when I first watched it, in the Wood Green house, with fuckface (my evil ex). We'd been up all night, and one of our housemates had the video, so we watched it. It's such a captivating film. I hope one day I can find a love like this, though obviously it would be preferable if I didn't have to become a call-girl first.

I found out something quite interesting about myself the other day which explains a lot.

Christmas preparations so far are up shit creek with total presents bought numbering ONE and number of trees decorated ZERO and feelings of festivity ZERO. Just as well I'm an atheist.

I should probably go and do something productive now like cut my toenails or go to bed. Live the dream eh.

migraine and related misery

I have a migraine, and it hurts to move my head. This is annoying as I was meant to go into uni and study, and then go to the gym, and return library books and all that jazz. Instead I am quite feverish and the only thing to eat is dry cereal as I can't face going to the shop. I also can't smoke as I have run out of rizlas.

Thus my life seems to consist of being horrible to my ex on msn, waiting for the others to get home so they can make me some tea, and listening to BBC worldservice in an attempt to learn some Chinese without opening my books.

Oh yeah and PANIC PANIC PANIC oh no can you believe what I thought hadn't happened has in fact just happened and oh christ this isn't making sense but yeah oh crap. I'm going to try and not panic a bit but part of me is thinking, ah you idiot, you brought it on yourself.

My hands won't stop shaking. Should I be worried? (or words dissimilar to that effect)

In the pub on Sunday, who should walk in but #1's ex boyfriend... with the girl he dumped #1 for. It was kind of awkward, although this new bint didn't know anything. Oh yeah, and she's a DOG. His loss.

Today I was loitering outside school (which omg reminds me - today I saw a man wearing just a mac, with no trousers, walking down the street) ANYWAY yes I was loitering outside school and who should come over but a guy I was at sixth form with. I was tempted to ask him if I was still the last girl he'd kissed (he's gay, and told me that kissing me had been a horrible experience) but I decided against it.

At the gym I managed to shave a whole second off my 2000m rowing. I was so very nearly sick. Then I took my feet out of the foot holding thing (christ, I'm verging on illiteracy these days - what happened to my vocabulary?) and they were covered in blood. I had to clean the machine. Moral of the story = wear socks.

My brother ate 2 pizzas. I was impressed. Fucking hell, if this reads like drivel you should hear me in person.

xi huan xi huan xi huan

Sometimes I go for days without my hip hurting too much. These last few days, it's barely hurt at all, apart from if I've been standing for a long time and when I'm in bed. But this morning it's really painful - it feels like something is trapped, or there is something out of place. I wonder whether it is rheumatic after all (instead of the cartilage), as it seems odd that it would sometimes hurt and sometimes not. Hmm. It's annoying. I've been trying to strengthen all my other muscles to compensate but my shoulder is quite double jointed and doesn't quite go in right, so I spend of time shrugging just one shoulder, which no doubt looks really weird. I probably look like that guy in Sainsbury's who's always twitching and shouting obscenities at old ladies. Though he has his willy out, so maybe not.

Yesterday I went to see Viv Youell's gig. She was really good, and not as nervous as she has been, which is nice. I kept pulling faces at her to make her smile.

In class yesterday I picked a fight about Taiwan. I reckon a Chinese invasion of Taiwan would be equally, if not more, "legal" than the American invasion of Iraq. This didn't go down well. I also took the opportunity to express my views on Pakistan. I think I said: "It's got it's grubby fingers in a hell of a lot of pies, the cheating bastards". I must learn not to personalise politics - or at least, politics outside the personal sphere.

On Sunday we were in the pub and my trousers fell down. I thought I must have lost weight but it turns out the string I was using to hold them up (yeah I know...) had broken. LOL.

Remould it nearer to the hearts desire.

The other day I got my shoe stuck in the escalator at Oxford Circus tube station:


I'd say my sock had a lucky escape there. And my toes, for that matter.

On Thursday I went to the London Bridge Vaults for C's birthday. The vaults is like a cathedral-stroke-catacomb. It's awesome. I saw a play there a few months ago but I still found it hard to get my bearings. It's also very dark in there. It was brilliant to see everyone, as much as I could see, at least. R and C took the piss out of me for ages and I promised to cook them a meal to make up for it. This somehow got turned into me making them Chinese food. Eek. As the night went on, C threw up, I somehow agreed to go rock climbing, we ate lots of crisps, and I got offered a job in Hong Kong (or potentially anyway). I got quite pissed and wandered about with C's brother and then started feeling a bit dodgy so I left.

On the way home I made a couple of mean phonecalls and then on the bus, I befriended some guys from Liverpool and we sang songs and I shouted "whey aye man!" at other people on the bus, and the Scousers invited me to a party, but I said no. When I got home I made a complete tit of myself on the phone and cried for ages and was generally an ARSEHOLE. I tried to sleep but my guts were having none of it, and I had to spend most of the night on the bathroom floor.

At 08.18, the next morning I woke up and amazingly was out of the house by 8.32 as I had to go to work. Christ. Instead of taking a packed lunch I grabbed a tin of soup. I threw on the clothes I'd been wearing on Tuesday as I knew they were semi-smart and not covered in alcohol or similar. I ran to the train station. The train was cancelled. I started talking to a woman. I then passed out. SHAME ON ME. It was kind of hilarious and kind of humiliating. The woman gave me a satsuma. Hahaha.

I had quite a hilarious conversation with my ex the other day:

Me: (general random abuse)
Him: ...
Me: (odd twinge of self-awareness) Am I a bitch?
Him: Yes.
Me: I think I should be nicer to you. Why are you so nice to me when I'm only ever mean to you?
Him: I like you.
Me: Fuck off.
Him: Stop being so paranoid.
Me: I'm not. Arsehole.

One day we'll get married and have children. Actually, we've already discussed this but only because we want to have a protracted custody battle with the sort of mud-slinging you normally find in a Paul McCartney divorce.

I bought some new speakers today and it's truly awesome. I'm not going out ever again. Though this could also be down to the fact that I am a disgrace. And I think I am being ignored. But seriously, have you any idea how great it is to play Basement Jaxx really loud in your room?? I've got a cup of tea, I have a HUGE bag of Japanese rice crackers - staying in is the new going out.

If I could only harness that generator, we could have a lot of fun...

You'll be pleased to hear that I am a bit more cheerful. I was doing my own head in, so what I must have been like to other people, god only knows. I apologised to him for being so miserable. He said it was okay and he liked my company and if he didn't like my company he wouldn't spend so much time with me. I was very touched. So touched, indeed, that I got on my train and burst into tears because I think he must think I'm okay.

What a load of snivelling bullshit. I need to grow a backbone.

Today I went to the doctor:

Doc: Hmm, it sounds to me like you have depression.
Me: ...
Doc: I'm going to prescribe you anti-depressants.
Me: I'm already on anti-depressants.
Doc: Are you? Ah, I see. Yes. You are. Right. I'll double the dose.
Me: Can I have some valium?
Doc: No.
Me: Okay.

The NHS is your friend. My nose, however, is not my friend. I've been sneezing so much recently that I've started getting nosebleeds and now my nose is bruised. I look like a cokehead.

I got a new phone yesterday and it is seriously so swanky. It has a 3.2 megapixel camera, which we keep calling a 3.2 kilometer camera because we're all techno-spazzes. I haven't quite figured out how to use it properly but that's okay. The only downside is that it's massive. But as they say, it's not the size of the wave, it's the motion of the ocean (I taught my German friend how to say that and it sounds really funny).

C got in touch, which was quite a surprise as the last time I saw him was when I walked out of his house having just had sex, announcing "I'm going swimming". In fact I think I was a bit of cunt to him all night, which, seeing as it was his birthday, wasn't that smart a move. I think I said some really awful things. I say "I think" as this was back in the days that I used to drink far too much (ie Summer 2006).

It was noted that all my ex-boyfriends haven't been interested in football. I was asked what they were into instead, and after thinking about it for a while, I realised that while two of them were into drugs, one of them was predominantly into his ex-girlfriend. Needless to say, this does not reflect well on me. I am going to have to start making better dating decisions.

I bought new speakers for my computer but they don't work. This would bother me a whole lot more if it wasn't for the fact that #1 is going away this weekend and I am going to take her room, with its SUPER KING SIZE BED (it deserves capitalisation) and dvd player. 再见 going out, 你好 video shop.

"Who are these 'hot chip' fellows?"

For the last three days I have felt like killing myself.

And I don't mean that in an emo kind of "boo my life is bad" kind of way. I mean that in the kind of, I don't know, there's something wrong with my head kind of way. And there really is. I've almost stopped eating, I am getting back into self-harming... I disgust myself.

On Friday night I went out and I had to try not to cry. Maybe it's being at ULU, maybe it's being around people I feel I have nothing in common with other than the character traits I abore, maybe it's because I miss my old life. I got home and cried for an hour. I feel like a fraud.

I've got to the point where I can't even go out and get away from things. I'm trying to keep busy, but everytime I do anything, I hit a wall. I went up to Camberwell. I got chatted up, I ran away. Like RAN away. I can't take anything as a complement.

I would like to combust in a shower of rainbows.

I am not a nice girl.

I convinced him to come round, though he had no idea how I was feeling. I don't think he knows that he's my last chance, my last hope. I don't think I could ever tell him, so we just talk, and we look at pictures, and eat food. I told him that I thought the best way to live your life is to have no expectations, but he knows me and he knows my expectations are too great.

I leant out of my window for hours and watched the sky.

Today everyone came home and I entertained everyone with stupid behaviour. I cut my hair to amuse myself. I danced about in a towel. I ate some cereal and wanted to emoliate myself. I obsessively organised things. I turned down invitations because I can't face seeing my reflection in other people's eyes.

Ironically, today I stopped in the middle of the road and I thought that maybe, perhaps, possibly, the world is okay.

Saturday

Yesterday I came very close to doing something I wasn't ever meant to do again. But I didn't do it because I'm not that stupid [yet].

I get the overwhelming sense that this is not my life.

"Why don't you just cheer the hell up?"

This week I have been trying not to spaz out so much. So far I haven't cried at school, although I was very close to walking out of class yesterday. Partly because I felt very uncomfortable, and partly because it was the biggest waste of time. Instead I whinged about it for a good 30 minutes, much to the amusement (?) of some and the visible distress of one girl, who is very nice but I think her niceness may be the main stumbling block. It was seriously a pointless lecture though. I have very little inclination to learn how "post-modernist" and "post-structuralist" as used interchangeably as labels. For a while I was staring into space trying to remember what SB had done for her A-Levels, and it was only when I was telling this story much later that I remembered the subject that had previously escaped me - psychology.

On Monday, F let me cut his hair. I was very nervous (as noted by some people, as they could see my hands shaking - thankfully F didn't hear, and my hands often shake anyway, so I'm fairly used to it) but it turned out okay! The grand event took place in the soas bar. F asked the barman if it was okay, and surprisingly, he said yes. I was a little concerned that it might go horribly wrong and it might be one of those situations where you wish you'd never said anything at all, and especially nothing like "oh, I'll cut your hair!"... Halfway through, I started thinking that I must know a bit how doctors feel, cutting patients and stuff, and that I suddenly had a new understanding of the medical profession, and that maybe I oculd have been a doctor after all as all you need is a smattering of knowledge and a healthy dose of bravado... Thankfully I soon came to my senses and realised that cutting F's hair is NOTHING like when M had to do her first operation and cut that mole of that guy's arm, and that I should shut the fuck up.

Part of me wishes I had done a science degree as I think it would be more useful, and I would really appreciate having tangible answers and facts and general coherance. I think I hate academia. I want to be a scientist. Obviously it's far too late for this, though my psychologist said I would have been a very good scientist if it wasn't for the fact that I have a very poor grasp of basic numeracy.

On Friday I finally went to the Korean restaurant everyone had been talking about. It was nice, but even better was the conversation, which I wouldn't have been averse to continuing forever were it not for the fact that the restaurant closed and so we wandered about and went into a building that looked like the embodiment of the Third Reich. I went home and got very drunk with #1 and #5. #5 went to bed and #1 made me upset and I felt like a bad person. I don't really remember all that much about what happened next. I was woken up the next morning by #5 who started laughing at me as I was lying on top of my bed with the light on, my glasses on and a book clutched in my hand. The glasses are now fucked, as the frame is quite twisted. They have also left a bruise on my face. Still, I take it as a sign of my hardcore status that I went from what was clearly a pitiful wreck to sitting in a restaurant within an hour, reading the weekend papers.

I saw the James Bond film again. I thought it was awesome again. Everyone should go and see it. Daniel Craig (or Craig David, as F keeps calling him) is the sex. Truly, THE SEX. The kind of sex where you break furniture. You know what I mean. After we'd watched that, we went into Chinatown for a big meal. And I mean big. I had a proper pot belly afterwards, which I was alternately proud and ashamed of. I saw some squid in a restaurant window and I now have more questions about squid anatomy than is really necessary.

slight misunderstanding

The other day I was saying to my cousin about how I'm not allowed to go out with brown boys anymore. He suggested I find myself "a nice Hindu boy".

I think that he thinks that I'm a racist now.

Last night I went out with coursemates, which was quite nice. Although I must learn to be nicer. As I was going to the loo, someone shouted my name - my friend from school and his girlfriend! It was so cool to see them, and so completely random. It's the guy I bump into in the most random places. We're going to have a reunion of people from Cambridge sometime before Christmas, which will be cool, although I should get my hair cut before then. Man, I am so shallow.

The other day I was on the tube and I saw my ex boyfriend. I contemplated saying hello but then I realised I was in my gym clothes and so I hid behind a large suitcase.

我来了！

Today, omg omg omg, we won the pub quiz. I was shocked. I thought we'd got about 5 right. Clearly, my faith is lacking somewhat. We won a grand total of £40, which, split 10 ways, doesn't add up to a lot, but still. Pretty impressive. Although I think the fact that we were the largest team and we're MASTERS students probably had something to do with it... Lording it over groups of three eighteen year olds is probably the new vogue. Let's make it so. You're born in 1988? I'm better than you. Yeah.

I can't seem to shake this malaise. People keep asking me if I'm okay. Well, actually, I say "people" when I mean "realistically, not that many people but I'll exaggerate if I want to". I was described as "edgy" today. What does that mean? I find it hard to get out of bed, although the sub-zero conditions in the flat don't make it a lot easier. This morning I wandered about the flat and put off making calls by reading last weekend's Guardian magazine (can you see a recurring theme?) and then frantically typing letters to people using one hand as the other was hidden under the blanket. It's freezing in the flat but I refuse to put the heating on, especially after last winter's £400 gas bill. Nah mate. I'll take hypothermia. At least it's FREE. Anyway, the malaise isn't shifting. I feel really bad. I am so apathetic about everything. Meh (indeed).

The maliaise does lift a little when I get my arse out of the flat and I do slightly more constructive things. I went to the gym today, though I started feeling really weird and a bit panicked. Still, I had my super-cool knitted shorts on. I love those shorts. I don't care that they cost far more than you'd think, per square inch of fabric, or that they're handwash only (it's a lie, I put them in the washing machine and they're fine), or that they're ridiculously warm. I am known for these shorts. These shorts are a part of me. I wear my shorts with pride. Although I suspect I would wear them with even more pride if I were to lose weight. But that would involve kicking my addiction to yoghurt covered raisins. And that, my friends, is an impossibility. To some people, I am known for my "middle-class, guardian reader snacks". It's like the tupperware, LSE library 2005. Me + tupperware = yoghurt covered (I think it was) apricots = good times. Of course, me + Red Bull + Pro Plus + dissertation = spaz times. Good god, I think it's been engrained on my memory. I should probably start work on my dissertation NOW to avoid that. Unfortunately, my general brain-fuck-up, aka dyspraxia, means I can't/won't, and thus the inevitable spaz out will ensue.

After the quiz, we wanted to watch the Bond film again, but it was sold out until the 23:00 showing. I would have been happy with that (it's probably warmer in the cinema than at home) but there was all this talk of night bus booooo, so we didn't. Ice cream was mentioned as a possibility, so we went to Sainsbury's and got ice creams. There's something so satisfying about an ice cream, especially out of season. Things out of season are always great - like indoor picnics cos it's raining outside, or hot food in the summer. There's also something equally nice about wandering about London. I think, armed with a travelcard, it would be completely satisfactory to wander about forever, given the correct company of course. I think my current plans for the future are to wander about - first London, then Hong Kong, then China, then who knows where. I'll occasionally take pictures on my phone and I'll drink lots of tea and have plenty of pairs of fingerless gloves. Sometimes I'll make people laugh and they'll take me out for dinner. Other times I'll have a gourmet meal of lemonade and crackers, or whatever else I fancy. Of course, by then I will have overcome my shyness and will be charming, pretty, thin and witty. I shoudl really stop dreaming about a fantasy existence and get on with my real one. In other words, shut up and do your homework.

"You live in... this??"

Today I woke up feeling really crap. I was kind of stuck into position by the blinding pain in my hips and back. So I lay still and hoped it would go away. Someone opened my door but didn't see me under the blanket. After a while the pain went away and I got really cold, so I put on two jumpers and got back in bed. I woke up 3 hours later really sweaty. This is why I missed uni today, for the first time ever.

Last night there were floods of tears, which wasn't very happy. #1 wants to come to Hong Kong with me for six months, which should be cool. We are going to get the tiniest flat (HK is expensive) and have a curtain seperating our sides of the bedroom. I am clearly going to have to learn how to be a bit tidier before then.

The weekend was HILARIOUS and the new James Bond film is freakin' ace. Went to a gig, spoke German and Chinese with an Italian accent, went to the 12 bar, went to the library, ate lots of Chinese food, wandered around for hours, ate gruel, went to the cinema, wandered around more and then sat on my bedroom floor. That was the weekend. On Sunday I sat vacantly in my room and then had a tantrum and decided to throw away all my belongings. I really miss someone, but I can't say anything to that person. But it's like they are the only person making me cheerful at the moment and I want to tell them everything.

I will NEVER learn.

Although my sense of disillusionment right now is SKY HIGH.

yakshemaaaaash

Rules of karaoke:

1) Just don't
2) If you really must, don't wear a skirt that goes see-through when lights shine behind it
3) If you fail on the first two counts, at least ensure no one videos it

On that basis, marks out of ten for last night: 0 (Britney song, check; skirt, check; camera phone violations, check)

Today has been wholely unproductive as I have spent most of the day in my pyjama's listening to Lady Sovereign. I panicked that I had eaten too many carbs but I think it's okay (one bowl of cereal, one piece of toast), but I'll go to the gym anyway. Also going to see a Tibetan film later so I should probably get dressed and stop thinking I can be a grime star. Or, as was suggested last night, Chinese rock stars (I could sing canto-pop, right? yes?).

Last night was well fun though - we came 3rd in the quiz and won a bottle of wine! Awesome. Then we went to ULU where said karaoke took place. Today I am taking it easy (see above), which means cancelling on R, who I think just wanted to come round and have sex with me anyway. No big loss. I am so over sex. Dying alone doesn't seem like such a bad prospect as even if you're in a relationship, you're only ever this far from being off the team. So quit that smugness, couples, you could be like me soon.

Also, being single is far more conducive to walking around in a blanket and not shaving your legs. Let's face facts.

I wish this was a brief description of recent activities but I fear it is yet more drivel

Today I had acupuncture, which was pretty cool. It felt really funny. I had planned to take a picture of it, but when it actually happened, I thought hmmm, maybe no one will want to see a photo of me with pins sticking out of my bum? And also, my leg was spasming and I had to hold it down. I must have looked a right state. I'm already pretty shaky (cue me, circa Sunday night, deciding to do some sewing and being laughed at by #1) but it just tipped me over the edge, I was like a jelly, and I had to concentrate very hard not to let my leg move too much as I had more pins in my feet. It felt awesome though and I can't wait for next week... although sitting down is a bit uncomfortable, as unsurprisingly, it feels like I have been jabbed in the bum with needles.

At the weekend I met up with an old friend and had a lovely night. We went out (in Croydon) and then when we got back home, the good old antidepressant sickness kicked in and I spent the night puking. On Sunday I crawled home and got into bed, emerging a while later to eat some cereal and then go back to bed, and call my mum. I read last weekend's Guardian Weekend magazine. #1 gave us all dinosaur stickers to put on our bedroom doors, although we had to promise to think up suitable noises for them. I chose the Lambeosaurus (I had to, really!) but I don't have a noise yet. Today in the bar I did some dinosaur noises for people and they kinda looked at me funny. I think I mainly just slept on Sunday though, which is pretty much the last time I slept.

Yesterday was Monday, and I dragged myself into uni for an action-packed lecture, and then went to meet A for lunch. It was lovely to see her. She's so cool. Like, maybe a bit intimidatingly cool and so self-assured and confident. I think if she was someone else, I would be too scared of her... But she's A and I've known her since I was 16 or whatever I was. She said I looked like a pixie. What's with this pixie thing? I'm trying to look like I'm a sensible (okay, that's a lie...), intelligent, cool, something person and everyone thinks I look like a fucking LEPRACHAUN. Anyway, went back to uni, puked, went to class, sat silently, was given pity looks (I saw them, you bastard), and then went to see my dad, who made my printer cartridge work. Woo! It was nice to see him too, although we'd only spoken the day before, so we didn't have a lot to talk about.

We read The Crucible today. It was fun. I was a comatose girl who wasn't really in a coma and tried to jump out of the window. I'm still feeling sick and I am living almost entirely off cereal (and yoghurt covered raisins). I should try and eat vegetables, blah blah blah. I have been told that I have no decorum and that I shouldn't speak/act like such a boy. Which is why I a) still find "Mike Hunt" amusing, b) had a loud and animated discussion about penis size outside uni with people I barely know, and c) I am currently sending text messages about having a wank wearing a Michael Jackson tshirt.

Oh yeah, and drama funding is going tits up. Need to get my arse in gear.

cooler than cooler than cool

So I had a nice quiet night in after a long day studying. Which means I fell asleep under my coat in the postgrad common room and then started drinking. After drinking with SB and her sister, and then the others, I went home and #1 and I had 2 bottles of wine each. We thought there was a fire and I ran down the fire exit to warn the people - dressed in only a blanket - but there was no fire. Then I told her the thing I don't tell ANYONE (that's right, you don't know) and she thought I would be sad but I was like, yeah man, I probably fucking deserved it. So she gave me a hug. We both ended up in tears. But it was a nice night anyway.

In other news, I have cognitive dyspraxia and I am back on antidepressants because I just want to die. Kept that kind of hidden eh? On the plus side, it surpresses your appetite. So maybe I'll lose all that weight I put on.

On a more cheery note, I can do really good dinosaur noises. I am soooooo cool.

Lambeth Council

Lambeth Council are cunts. What's the fucking point in saying that students don't have to pay council tax when it's actually a big fat lie? I actually don't feel at all bad I just told them to fuck off. The moron on the end of the phone (and yeah, I've done customer service before, so I know what it's like) was refusing to accept my point, despite agreeing with each of my points individually. What the fuck am I paying my £28.25 per month for? I am genuinely annoyed.

I don't know where the sun beams end and the starlight begins, it's all a mystery...

I can't figure things out. Either I am being a complete bitch, or... Or... I don't know. Things at the Mansions are really weird. As everyone who's spoken to me in the last month knows only too well, I'm not getting on with #5, aka Lego. None of us are. I've not been at home very much because I can't study here, thanks to her taking over the living room (and my inability to study in such close proximity to my bed... mmmm, sleep...), and also because she winds me up. She asks me constant questions and tries so hard to be nice that it clearly doesn't come naturally to her. I think she'd like us to think she's a nice girl, but I just don't, it's too forced. She's clearly insecure - aren't we all? - but she tries to get round this by acting superior to the rest of us. Her job is more important, her degree... In fact, we're merely plebs and there's no point explaining anything to us because we just wouldn't get it. And this is all fine. I just don't come home, and I avoid rooms that she's in. And this is all fine.

And yet... Today she cried because I'm being so horrible to her. Yesterday we snapped at each other and today she did something of monumental stupidity and #1 had the audacity to say it was a bit silly. I can't figure out whether I'm being unreasonable or what. I just don't know, I'm so entangled in this situation and I feel sick when I hear her walk down the corridor because she makes me feel ashamed of myself, in a way. She's 4 years older than me, but I feel I should set the example. And I'm not. #1 asked me if I thought we should ask her to leave, but we can't do that. I need to grow the hell up and get on with things. But part of me - the stubborn part - says why should I, why should I have to adapt to this, this is my house. I think I'm just not a nice person, because a nice person would be more tolerant and let her have the living room and let her ask questions and let her dictate how everything is done. I feel like a failure for letting it get like this.

I really miss S and I don't know how to sort that situation out either.

I feel utterly miserable. I'm trying to keep really busy. I feel sick and I can't sleep. All my joking around is worth shit because I feel worse than I have in ages.

Note to self

These are some of the reasons I am really lame:

- I am wearing a hat that I know everyone laughs at but it's at a jaunty angle so that makes it okay in my mind
- I dance on the tube to Nelly Furtado
- I call people far too many times generally just pestering them with questions like "what are you doing today" and "do you think I should I call him" and "do you think he likes me"
- I just downloaded the Ghostbusters theme tune
- I'm generally offensive because either I just don't know how to be nice, or the idea of it scares the hell out of me
- I race people on the cross trainers at the gym

L-O-S-E-R.

Also, wo dann ist der Bahnhof?

I forgot to mention, apparently one of my legs is shorter than the other one. As in, I am Forrest Gump.

Today at work I keep laughing out loud at something I was told yesterday - "You know what the reason there are so many paedophiles nowadays, don't you? Sexy kids!" I know it's wrong and I know it doesn't make me a lady, but nor does sitting in the JCR and having a poll to determine who'd had the worst sex (which turned out to be as no one else had been puked on, though my (male) friend did fake an orgasm once). Not only am I not going to get the boy I kinda like to like me back, but I am going to die alone. My friend's advice is to go for stupid men; my own carefully formulated plan is to get myself an Asian girlfriend and use her as bait. This is probably part of the reason I am going to die alone.

But before I die I am going to buy myself a PDA and use that instead of my Singapore Ministry of Education dictionary. Nod to modernity and all that.

It's like, say there are two thumbs...

Earlier this evening I got a voicemail message from G saying "Call me back, dammit, this is important!" My phone was dead so I retrieved his number from the depths of my mind (how? I'm innumerate?!?) and found a payphone, then realised I had no change, so found one that accepted cards...

G: Hello?
Me: It's me... Are you okay?
G: Oh hello. Why are you calling from an 0845 number?
Me: Payphone, mobile is dead... What's up?
G: What?
Me: Your voicemail. Important. Is everything okay?
G: Oh yeah, I was just calling to tell you that the Borat film is out now.
Me: You called to say that? You PANICKED me to say that?
G: Well, it is important!
Me: I hate you.

Yesterday Flat Dragon got drunk and I laughed so hard I thought I might be sick. Got 10/20 on the quiz but have a dilemma that can't be solved. This morning I saw a man wearing a jacket made out of beermats. Photos of both to follow...

I'm fucking KNACKERED and my plans for an early night fucked up again. Where I'm working only has decaff coffee so I might whip out the old Pro Plus if I'm going to attempt to be coherent at Friday Night Dinner With The Geordies (it deserves capitalisation). Howay pet.

Things that, retrospectively, were not a good idea

- the hip abducter machine at the gym, unless the sound of me going "shit the fucking bed man, what the fuck??" has suddenly become acceptable
- cheap socks (they only ever slide down inside your shoe and you get a blister)
- making oh-so-stupid jokes in front of the boy I think I like
- drinking so much coffee that I am jittery and sick

If I concentrate on these types of things, maybe I won't have to think about what just happened. I really need a hug.

Mammy, I'm a gay man now!

Last night I left the party, crying, and walked across London, crying. I called my ex boyfriend, crying. Dressed as a cat.

Today I went to the theatre, so a bit of everything really.

Dialogue

x: I love girls who write. Poetry and music, it's like the sun shining. It shines on me and makes me shiny.
Me: Ahem.

z: Er, I have to tell you I have a girlfriend.
Me: (laughter)
z: Did you know?
Me: No. But seriously, if you'd said you were gay I would have had exactly the same reaction.
z: What?
Me: I think it's me, not you.

A generally productive day involving some sleep, some study, a visit to the gym, a pitstop visit to my house and then a night of booze and singing in French on the night bus and shouting "Eduardo! Eduardo!" on Regent Street. And a dance off, where I showed off my signature move of standing in the corner smoking fags, bitching and being a bit lairy. I am pure class.

"And then we had sex"

I'm so tired, but I feel like I can't sleep. Various moments of hilarity recently, also much inappropriate laughing out loud and not enough reading and not enough going to the gym. Thankfully, not much eating, but unfortunately more than made up for by last nights "10 double vodka special" (don't say I don't try).

Yesterday I was standing on the steps of SOAS talking to a very nice young man about philosophy, and he announced that his lecture had been intellectual masturbation. This crazed man jumped out of literally nowhere and started berating him for using the word masturbation, and how didn't we know the Arabs had invented it anyway and transported it to the West in the 1950's, and if we went to the library we could look at the Kama Sutra, and how a nice young girl like me didn't want to hear about masturbation. I tried so hard not to laugh but the man was insane. As he was leaving, he shook my friends hand, and then grabbed my shoulder and exclaimed: "you're a very lovely girl, jah!"

We did the pub quiz yesterday and got a very impressive 9 out of 20. I have heard such awful jokes recently. Example:

Q: What's worse than having a bath at Michael Jackson's house?
A: Having a bath at Ian Huntley's.

Last night G and I had an argument until 6 in the morning about religion. His premise, "it's wrong". He was driving me insane, as whatever I said, he said I was wrong. Especially annoying as I had to go to the hospital at 9 am, and I eventually rocked up stinking of booze and fags with last night's make up still on my face.

I'm going to see a play on Sunday about sex. Which fits very nicely with a poem I heard earlier. And my developing penchant for ending sentences with "and then we had sex". And plagiarism.

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.

"fancy a lie down?"

I remember back in the old days I used to write about everything I did in this blog. Now I occasionally write about how ill I feel and how much of a whore D is. I just find it hard to summon up any enthusiasm for anything anymore. I used to be so passionate but it's like all the life in me has been sucked out. I was trying to explain last night to #1 that although I should be happy, I'm just not, and that there is something wrong with my head. But that goes back to the whole debate about whether it's okay to admit you're depressed (and in my experience, I've had a whole load of shit from so many people - being called "defective", simply "mental", "stupid" and so on) but it's completely fine to admit you have asthma. At least my lungs work properly, mofo. One good thing about being completely emotionless (or having emotionless periods, as my mood is so cyclical) is that these things just don't matter to me. Or at least, I think they don't and then it all gets a bit much.

But anyway, what I've been up to goes a little something like this... I keep intending to stay in, I really do, but then I go out instead. I also intend to go swimming, but stuff keeps happening, such as forgetting my contact lens solution, or going to the pub with F instead. On Tuesday I decided I love my coursemates, but possibly made a tit of myself, and then came home and drank gin and definitely made a tit of myself. On Thursday I went to my friends leaving drinks (and not to Gay Against You), which was lots of fun. Though I was talking to someone and I suddenly thought "hang on a second, it was YOU, you two faced bastard!" You know when someone is nice to your face, and you just know that they've been saying stuff about you (and this idea is reinforced by being told that "an unnamed man in your department" has been calling you a slag) but you have no proof... And then you get proof. See, these are the things that used to bother me but now, I just think whatever, and with people like that I follow the policy of humouring them and milking them for all they're worth ("Oh, are you passing the bar? Get me a drink, will you?"). It's liberating knowing that you're going to be slagged off - you have no fear and, if anything, it's an incentive to act really badly. Anyway, it was nice to see everyone, and despite making a rather large social faux pas, it was all good and at least no one ended up in a bin.

On Friday I went to a BBC recording of some Brazilian choral music at St Giles' church in the Barbican. I know next to nothing about Brazilian composers, other than obvious ones like Villa Lobos. The first half of the concert constituted about seven Ave Marias, which was nice, but I preferred the second half as it was more folk-type songs, ending up with some Christmas carols! It's going to be broadcast on Radio 3 in the new year sometime. I liked the church too, actually - it seemed so at odds with the Barbican centre. Anyway, afterwards I went to Hackney with SB and her sister, and although I'd said I'd just have dinner and then go home, I ended up at the worst house party in the history of the world. Seriously, SO BAD. Are all UCL people so rubbish? A girl was sick right in the centre of the living room. I left and wandered through a council estate. Yesterday I fell asleep in the library, only to wake up half-choking as I couldn't breathe, thanks to my blocked nose. I had a gym induction. It was kinda terrifying and kinda gratifying, and I plan to get very fit and thin and pretty and then at least something will be okay. I went out with #1 and #2, and we drank far too much champagne, resulting in hilarity.

Today I am contemplating going to the library but seeing as I am at home in my pyjama's, I'm not doing a fab job of it. In mind there is a constant struggle between what I want to do (lethargy) and what I should do. Plus the eternal dilemma of how to get the boy I love to love me in return.

不舒服

I don't feel very well today. And I feel really miserable. One small consolation is that I have found out where I left my scarf and it is awaiting collection as I write. Yay me.

有问题

Why is it that when I swim, I can't see properly for an hour afterwards? Chlorine is the stuff of the devil. Are there any non-chlorinated pools in London? At least it's not as bad as the pool on Roman Road which made me feel sick even cycling past. Moral of the story - don't go to pools that people piss in. I need to stop associating with the underclasses, for the sake of my contact lenses at least.

I pulled a muscle in my leg when I fell off the chair laughing at naked #1. As if that wasn't divine retribution enough, my hip is so painful that I can hardly sit still in class and why oh why is co-proxamol banned now? That shit is good. Thank god I have a stash. Hahaha. And I have a cold. I am seriously STUFFED full of snot. I am going to die alone.

On the plus side... I dunno. I am trying to think of things but I keep being distracted by blowing my nose and the fact that the boy is sitting behind me. Oh yeah, plus side, my hanzi are improving and I translated some of a big long text today.

Other plus side: I am going to see an educational psychologist and I have been classified, courtesy of the disability office, as having multiple disabilities. I find this in some ways amusing, but in some ways quite galling. I am not disabled. I used to be ill, I'm not now (I'm just fat). But hokay, fine, classify me, go on, I dare you... Now can I have free photocopying and a laptop and a dictaphone? And a new print cartridge for my printer at home cos although my brother told me shaking it works, it still prints in a rather fetching shade of grey. I'm kinda telling everyone about my "multiple disabilities" because it makes it funny rather than desperately, desperately sad. In the same way that SB told everyone about buying the Britney Spears album - you have to reappropriate the negative images that are forced upon you. Though on the grand scheme of things, it's kinda different. Like, how do I tell my parents? (answer: I don't)

If I see that slut anywhere, I will kick her head. So I am not going to Gay Against You (sorry, JS), cos we don't want murder on the dance floor, now do we?

Hang on. What the fuck. I'm off to have words. Sort it aht.

ha ha hahahahahhahahahahahahah

Oh fuck I'm really pissed. But only because #1 and her new boyfriend-esque type person were tucking into my gin and I wanted some to myself, which of course meant hoarding it in my stomach. Bleaurgh. I don't like her new boyfriend but she just came in my room wearing only his shirt and I laughed so hard I fell off my chair cos I was like, haha I just saw your privates, and she was like, fuck off I want to drink your gin. Then I told her not to have sex with him cos I don't like him, even though I made that clear by throwing onion skin at him, and she said, yeah, I'll have sex with you, and I said, meh, it beats masturbation.

Quote of the day comes from the disability officer but I'm too pissed to remember. Meh, give me my disability living allowance, hell yes.

I texted my friend to say "come out, we have prostitutes" and then he said grow up. I saw the boy I love so much and he so doesn't know I exist. He's so pretty. Not to mention ace.

我不是同志。Get out of my fucking kitchen.

worst comes to worst my peoples come first

Last night didn't go as planned. In fact, by the end of the night, one could say that it was an unmitigated disaster, although I had a good time earlier on.

How can someone - let's call her D, shall we? - be so fickle and so blatantly uncaring to betray a friend like that? That level of insincerity in a person is frankly disgraceful. If you know that your best friend, who we shall call S, has kissed the boy that she has liked for ages and that things are all happy and shiny, you do not throw yourself at said boy every time your friend leaves the room. Nor do you then disappear to the showers with said boy and grope each other in a pathetic teenage way. Nor do you then deny it. Grow the fuck up. Clearly the fault does not entirely lay with one person as the boy shouldn't have done it, but his allegiances are clearly up his arse, whereas D, if she wishes to be considered as a friend, she should act like a friend. Competitiveness is not an attractive quality, especially if it means that you steal your friends boy. I mean, Jesus Christ, do you want to end up as the woman who no one will allow in their house for fear of you trying to hump their husband?

And another thing, honesty is quite a good character trait. I promise a no-questions-asked money-back guarantee if you find that lying through your back teeth is preferable. For example, if you've been caught in the shower, don't say that you didn't know that S had kissed him. You knew. We discussed it. Hell, we discussed it even after I got there, and I didn't arrive until 4 am. So you knew. But you made the decision that it didn't matter to you, and that you would pursue the boy anyway. That's selfish. But a step to rectifying the situation would be to admit it. Step up. Take responsibility. You'll be amazed.

My views on the boy, unsurprisingly, are pretty rock bottom. You could go so far as to say that I never wish to see him again, and I don't want him anywhere near S, a concept he hasn't quite gathered. He takes arrogance to a level that really is quite unprecedented. But whatever, like I say, he hasn't made a pretence of being anyones friend, possibly because he can't see any further than his own ego and penis. Spread the love, kids. And get herpes.

No one will believe a word you say anyway.

bridges

How do you tell someone that they're possibly the most irritating person I know? Without a repeat of last weeks "boooooooooooo hoooooooooooooo nooooobody loves me" - cos I can't be bothered with that.

I am in the process of burning all my bridges and have decided that the only way not to get ill is to swim 1km every other day and keep really busy. But I fell asleep on the tube and a very small girl held my hand.

And my new uni ID card makes me look like a hoodlum.

Music

I was asked a pertinent question today - "what kind of music do I like?" And it made me think. What the hell do I like? (as opposed to the altogether different question of "what do I listen to")

It seems that I listen to a lot of music I don't like all that much. And I listen to a lot of stuff just for the "comedy value" or because a certain song reminds me of a certain time or place. And other songs I can't listen to for exactly that reason (hence my only recently rectified aversion to REM - who I still think suck, not to mention whine, but at least I don't cry or anything anymore). But why am I so able to say what I don't like when I find it impossible to specify what I do like? Is it down to my inability to make a decision, my seeming lack of any positive views when it comes to myself and my interests? One thing that is sure is that I listen to the music I listen to because I have, in some way or another, been told to listen to that. That's what happens if you go out with music facists, which does appear to be a theme if you look at my relationship history (with the exception of G, admittedly, though he did know a lot about computer games, so you could say that he swapped one electronic format for another - because let's face it, there's no music without electricity anymore, unfortunatel). But I digress...

I have to say that the only music that makes me have THAT feeling inside (without the help of class A's) is classical music. Maybe because I was brought up on it, or because at one point, it meant so much to me. But that in itself is so annoying as I know nothing about it now. After everything started falling apart, I distanced myself from that, and once I moved to London, I was more interested in losing my mind than anything else. So although I love it, I can't listen to classical music without feeling sad. But it's not sad in a bad way, more a melancholy and a lingering sense of regret. I don't get sick of listening to pieces of classical music (with some exceptions) whereas I find that I go through endless stages and cycles with other music. I guess just an overall feeling of animosity towards it isn't that bad - you always know where you are etc. It just so happens that "where you are" translates as "in the shit".

So, what music do I actually like? Who fucking knows.

The Flying Finn fails to take off?

Is it just me or did Kimi Raikkonen get fat?

In other news, I have hurt my leg in one of the most comedy accidents of the year, and I am not looking forward to explaining to the doctor what happened. Hilarity.

I have so much work to do for uni. I think I might be a bit stupid.

Non, je ne regret rien...

I would like to extend my sincerest apologies to everyone in the Herne Hill area for being subjected to my singing last night. There really was no need for you all to have been forced to listen to me and #1 singing while tanked up to the eyes with beer and gin. Using a banana for a microphone. If it's any consolation, I have an enormous bruise on my leg at exactly table height.

I would also like to apologise to someone for the way I have been acting towards him. I shouldn't have ruined the night out by announcing "I feel so empty" in the middle of the dancefloor, and I shouldn't have been so generally mean. And I shouldn't have made him accidentally on purpose miss his train.

I guess I should also apologise for throwing that tea down the sink and I think I owe another apology for various other things. Right. Now on with a fresh new week...

Confessions

Hokay, some confessions... brought about as I am drunk and in a weird mood:

1. I actually really fancy Eminem. Say what you like, he is the sex. Though less so that Thierry Henry, who is the epitome of sex and va-va-voom all rolled into one.

2. I have signed up to an internet dating site. This has 2 purposes:
- I plan to get many, many a free meal out of this - "oh what, you want to go to the cinema... Can't we go get food first?" (this is part of my super ingenious dieting plan that is a) derogatory and b) vaguely familiar to anyone who has read the Bridget Jones books)
- it's blatantly going to be funny to read about... does anyone remember the last date I went on?? No?? That's because I didn't write about it. It involved me necking a bottle of wine, telling my date that he was never going to make it in either his career or his attempts with women, and then pissing off, leaving him with the bill. He was well boring though, so allow.

3. I am categorically nasty to people I like/who like me. For example, tonight I get a text saying "I can't wait to see you, I have a surprise for you, wish you were here" (and all that sentimental claptrap) and I text back "I'll try to stave off the excitement. I think I'm busy..." Why do I do this? I told the boy I like that sure he can stay round, there's plenty of space on the balcony.

4. Whenever I think about my ex I feel a bit sick. Today in Victoria train station I thought I was going to fall over because omg that's where we saton our suitcases, and that's where we smoked some fags, and over there, that's where we made some crazy plans, and you see that - that's where we thought it would always be like this. Every street in London (and beyond) is the scene of some falling out, some drama, some making up, something. I do a damn good job of not thinking about him but... Hmm. I don't miss him. I just miss "us".

5. I really like university. I really like all the people I met. I really like the boy I met the other day who I thought I didn't like but now I think is ace.

6. I am well and truly cracking up. I shake a lot and I say it's coffee but it's not.

Elvis was a hero to most but he didn't mean shit to me.

Less whining, more facts,

Enough of my whinging, this is what I have really been up to recently:

On Thursday, SB and I went to see The Alchemist at the National. It was really funny - like, laugh out loud funny that I forgot you got from Ben Jonson plays. It's been so long since I've been to the theatre (the last time, I think (other than some outdoor stuff), was in February or so when I went with lots of work people to see Playing With Fire, or something like that - it was terrible). SB got us cheap tickets (thanks, Travelex!) and amazingly the National seem to have sorted out their heating problem as it was possible to take off coats and scarves. Anyway, after stuffing our faces with Chinese food, we rocked up at the theatre and managed not to fall over getting to our seats (is it just me, or does the seating in the NT not seem very precarious? It might just be me...), and skimmed through the cast list to at least try and figure out something about the play. It took a good ten minutes to adjust to the language being used. Although I studied English Literature A Level, and even did Ben Jonson, this was a good four years ago, and my working knowledge of old English has regressed since then, unsurprisingly (indeed, my knowledge of English in general has been steadily declining though unfortunately this does not mean any other language has particularly gained...). I can barely remember the plot of Volpone, although I remember something about a tortoise. Anyway, the play was ace. The cast were excellent, and there was a live band, which is always nice. The only downside was that it was very long, especially the first half. I'm going to start going to the theatre more, I reckon. It's just laziness that means that I have no cultural capital.

Actually, on Thursday I managed a great deal of culture as before I met SB, I went to the British Museum and had a nosey around the China rooms. I liked the calligraphy but I'm not all that hot on bits of broken pot. Call me a philistine, but whatevs, it's a pot. To counteract all this culture, SB and I went down to Goldsmiths to what had been described as "bands and an indie disco until 2". What a pack of lies. For one, the band (singular, the others had cancelled) was shite - one song had the lyrics "liar liar pants are on fire", which would have been amusing if they hadn't been so dreadful. We were like the oldest people there - everyone was super trendy and the only people who spoke to us were two very endearing but no doubt intensely irritating 18 year olds. There were no hot men. The bar shut at 12. We left, via a toilet that smelt like a Glaswigan council estate, and beat a hasty retreat to the mean streets of New Cross, where it took us about an hour to get home in the pouring rain. A small Chinese man in an army helmet and goggles chatted to us.

On Friday I was woken up with a steaming cup of tea, which is pretty darn perfect in my books. I wandered over to uni later in the day and chatted to one of my new friends, and to a very lively American girl, before going to meet the people on my course. There's about 20 of us, including, bizarrely, a girl who I sat next to in A Level History. I swear, Hills Road Sixth Form is taking over. Everyone on the course seems nice, and our convenor is sweet though very odd. I saw him again yesterday and said hi but I don't think he knew who I was. After the talk, I went to the pub with some people from my course and I felt a bit inadequate as they're all very clever and know lots, but I guess I just have to not be silly as I wouldn't be there if I wasn't good enough, right? After a couple of pints I went to meet S and D at the Fitzrovia, where the night of abject silliness began. We had some drinks there and then went to Old Street, where we wandered aroudn trying to find a bar no one knew the name of, which turned out to be terrible. I was in a foul mood by then, and was muttering "for fuck's SAKE!" at pretty much every given opportunity. D had two of her friends with her. They were insanely posh, and I didn't feel like I had anything to say to them cos, y'know, I don't have a horse or like shooting things or whatever. I dunno, I guess they were nice. We left the lame bar and went to a Wetherspoons where I read Heat magazine and drank sambuca. Eventually we decided to go to Crush. We got there half an hour before closing so convinced them (or S did, rather) to let us in for free, and I then ran around like a stupid and I vaguely remember talking to people but I honestly don't remember all that much. On the way home I spoke in Spanish to everyone - according to S, I was saying something like "can I have your room for the night and can you make me breakfast?" - and some randoms apparently hugged me and asked me to come and smoke some spliffs with them, but I don't remember this either. We got back to S's and there was a fight, and I tried to invigilate and then we ate some food and then I stole the bed. For some reason I was convinced the whole time that I was sober. I clearly wasn't.

Waking up on Saturday morning was one of those moments... you know the sort: open one eye.. Am I alone? (check) Am I dressed? (check) Where the fuck am I? (errr, check??) Did I call anyone inappropriate last night? (thankfully, I resisted this one!) I had one of those hangovers that you only get from really mixing your drinks. S woke up shortly after and together we have formulated at least a partial story of the night before. Everything seemed to be getting better but then I ate a toffee yoghurt and got a phone call and was like, oh yeah, I saw that guy I shagged. I went home: was mocked. Mocked I tell you. I ate some soup. I spewed. I went into uni and signed up for societies and nearly spewed again and then went to Superdrug where I was mocked again. So I went home.

Saturday night was spent dealing with #1 and the hospital and the loveliest paramedics in the world and trying to steal from the hospital, and all sorts like that. I felt rough as fuck but managed to hold it all together despite only managing two hours sleep, and was quite organised. Sunday was passed in much the same way, with ghost writing an article for the newspaper being one of my duties - made possible god knows how, seeing as I at one point fell over with exhaustion. #1 is much better now though obviously still in lots of pain, but that's what painkillers are for.

This week I have been at uni and have got some reading done already, and chatted lots to people on my course. It turns out that my Politics class should be okay, but Anthropology.. well, that's a whole different matter. I had my first language class too, and although I was probably one of the better ones in the class, no one is anywhere near the standard our teacher wants.

Last night I spoke to the boy for the first time in ages. He called yesterday morning and I was really rude to him. I think things are most definitely not on track - and it's mostly my fault as I forgot to call him on his birthday, and then didn't call the next few days, and then cancelled our date without telling him, and then was rude to him. Oh whatever though, seriously. He irritates me sometimes. And then I feel bad saying that as whenever we're together, I really like him and we act all silly. I'm pretty sure that he was shagging someone else last weekend, but I actually don't give a toss as that's precisely what I do (given half a chance, of course - and not at the moment, given the drought!). The drought is coming to an end as G is coming to stay soon, which'll be fun. I've really missed him. If he wasn't so crap, he would be great. But he's crap, as am I, so we always forget to call each other.

In other news, I am joining a gym. It's all part of a plan to try and con lots of free meals out of people. All my friends who have jobs will be getting a call soon asking if they'd like to take me out for dinner. I'll do the whole impoverished student line, which will be far more effective if I look a bit skinny. Also, I'm fed up of being so fat. I weighed myself when I was at my parents house and eeek. Obviously I weigh far more than when I was my skinniest (though when I was telling my mum, she did point out that I looked ill back then and I was only that skinny because I was seriously depressed and didn't eat anything at all) but I think some sort of happy medium would be good. I know I'm probably not meant to go to the gym, what with my hip, but y'know. Especially as it's getting worse, and my knee (where I tore a ligament when I was 10) hurts now too. Whatever, I'm having physiotherapy, and I don't see that swimming and pilates and stuff can hurt? Maybe I'll just do that at the gym. The machines look a bit scary - there's no way in hell I will be able to work those. I can barely work my alarm clock, and even that seems a bit tenuous, given that I woke up at 11 today. [haha, I knew I would be able to fit some whining into this entry!!]

Right, I need to go and read my books now.

I can't be your superman

This weekend has not turned out quite how I expected. I am absolutely shattered but pleased that things are okay, and glad that I was able to help. I think I am very good at looking after people and in fact I have a very comprehensive medical knowledge (a hidden talent, perhaps?), but now I am tired and worried that I can't cope. And I can't tell anyone that I am going mad, and that I think something is seriously wrong, or that I can't walk properly, because I'm the responsible one and I have to remember medication times and be supportive and make things as easy as possible, but I think it would be really nice if someone could come and look after me for a bit.