More tea, more painkillers...

Everytime I try and write anything in this, something happens that means I can't. Today, I get on the computer - quickly quickly though eh - and just check BBC news, and OMG ZOMG WTF the Cutty Sark is on fire??? Man, that's part of my childhood :( Gutted doesn't even begin to explain it. Me and the ship.

On Saturday I went out for lunch/dinner with SS and his fiance and about 8 others. It was really cool, we went to a Brazilian restuarant in Angel. I ate so much I actually thought I might pop, I felt really uncomfortable!! But it was lots of fun, it's wicked to get on well with my boss, even though he has now started calling me a hellish toad (I quite like that, it's Harry Potter-esque, no? and therefore part of my namesake...). In fact, the only downside was when the waiter put a chicken on my plate!! On top of my salad!! I thought I might cry, and I couldn't really say anything apart from "meeeeeeeehhhhhhhhhhhhh" or something similar. After dinner we went to The Green, which I'd been to before, but despite the sign outside saying that it was "london's premier middle class gay bar", I hadn't actually noticed that it was a gay bar.

Last night I stayed at the library til 4am and the incrimination (so to speak) continued, which was a very welcome revision break! Especially as during the course of the day I had managed to convince myself that I had tetanus (#1 says you can't get it from a rusty safety pin, but I thought that's how you got it?? And my finger hurts where it (ahem) "pricked" me, far more than you'd expect it to), and then convinced myself that my textbook was actually speaking to me, what with it's talk of bad students, alcoholism and domestic violence. Seriously, this textbook ain't for kids.

Today is my last exam and I have realised that it's hard to do revision/exams when you live far away and you still have to fit everything in and you're pretty much by yourself. For every one of my undergrad exams I had my ex to help me with stuff. Except when we were fighting, which was most of the time. But he did do sweet things, like he knew I'd be hungry so he packed some of the dhal (it was the 2-week dahl) in tin foil so it would stay hot and biked over to give it to me. That may of course have been the day I threw a chair at him, but whatever.

However, I am going to miss SOAS so much. I will miss this routine I have now - go to school, study in the library, chain smoke, maybe go to Tesco, smoke some more, drink ill-advised beer, take pro plus, study manically, and then chain smoke some more. Plus of course, last night's addition of handjobs in the 4th floor toilets.

Tonight I am going to get WASTED. Come join.

Life is best summed up in a Silver Jews song

I don't really have time to write much anymore, what with revision and generally living la vida library, but let me just say that I am very happy, and if I were to write more it would be very incriminating. Even though nothing has happened, to speak of. Ummm this is quite elusive, but I don't think it helps that I can barely speak english anymore. Plus, there's no need to incriminate myself at this point. I know what's going on, I think.

In other news, it's the final countdown with my exams, and I can't stop thinking about the most ridiculous things. F said the other day that we should make an alternative yearbook with the funniest quotes of the year. Inclusions so far are the comment about "he's going to be Gary Glitter in 40 years" and possibly the most ill-advised thing I ever said about my anthropology lecturer's parents sex life (ie "it's like picking your nose with gloves on". WHY?!?!?). Suggestions on a postcard please.

Also, after exams I'm going to be more of a human being and I might give my housemate back her duvet. In the meantime, the library beckons....

It's a very small (Lib Dem) World

Forgot to say - I'm going to whinge less and sing more.
I reckon things will seem better after exams.
Hopefully my body will hurt less and I'll be able to sleep properly.
"fuck chineseness", as the article goes.

In other words, I always really hated those people who whinged all the time, so I'm going to shut the fuck up.
Anyway, my hair is too cool for me to be miserable, and I'm starting to get a bit of a crush on this guy. That makes me sound like a 14 year old American girl.

Small world, seriously.

umbrella ella ella eh eh eh

When I fail my exams I am going to blame all the shitty music I've been listening to. You know how sometimes you hear a song and a YEAR later, you're still listening to it. Well, cast your mind back a year to this party I went to just after I was really ill, when I couldn't drink or eat cheese or any of the things I love so much... It was a party at some girl's house, I knew her through my then-boyfriend, who unbeknownst to me was planning not to be my boyfriend anymore but would be too scared to look me in the eye. The party was full of people I didn't really know and I talked to the Greeks, about when I'd come to their house and watched Eurovision and pissed off their Greek relatives by cheering Cyprus. Anyway, we were all sitting under a tree and eating strawberries and generally being very civilised, when it was decided that we should toast the marshmallows on the barbeque. I gave the job to N, my then-boyfriends then-housemate, and he put the marshmallow on top of a sausage. I tried to eat it, but I had to spit it out in a hedge, what with it being kinda meat-infused. Cue mockery. N tried it and he didn't make it to the hedge and nearly spat it on people's shoes. He threw an apple at me, I threw one back, he threw one harder - I have a scar on my face. it was all fun and games.

Later on, N's girlfriend played me this song (Nelly Furtado: Maneater) and I dunno, but it's not really losing any of its appeal. Which may be why I was singing it on the nightbus last night.

"I'm more of a gobbler"

It's been such a stressful weekend, what with the argument (which is all fine now) and us being potentially evicted. We made the mother of all spreadsheets and wrote the most awesome letter, so hopefully now we won't be homeless. I'm just so stressed - I want to cry whenever I look at my Chinese books because this stupid fucking grammar is too much for me. I need to try and think about a "career". Being served an eviction notice hasn't helped, and being in a perpetual state of having not enough money to sort things out is starting to get to me. Nothing changes but nothing stays the same.

I had a dream the other day that they had to chop my leg off, and now I'm scared to go and see my consultant.

The other day I admitted to this guy I know that I used to have a big crush on my sociology teacher, and it turns out that she's his teacher. I'm such a loser.

The facebook stalking has reached dizzy new heights, though it's not just me it seems...

I can't write coherent sentences anymore.

On the plus side, J is going to give me and #1 £50 if we strip off and snog for the Daily Sport. I'm all for it.

oi tea oi vey

It was kind of meltdown central here yesterday. #1 and I had an argument, the first argument we've ever ever had. I knew it was coming and I still acted like a twat. I knew when we were in the pub, and I knew for sure when she walked out of the room after calling me naive (on my views on policing, rather than anything else). But, we had an argument. And it was horrible and weird. I have promised not to carry on doing all the things that I was doing, ie not telling her what's really going on. Thing is, I knew she would be upset when I told her - which is why I didn't for so long. Then when I did, it was so late into it all that it was so much worse. And of course she was upset, who fucking wouldn't be upset when someone tells you THAT.

I need to stop talking about my feelings only when I'm drunk, or for comedy effect. I remember once P said you should make a joke out of adversity, but there comes a point when the people around you are sick of hearing the same old jokes, and would like to know how I really feel. I need to stop running away from problems, and I really need to stop overusing the phrase "I'm fine". It's scary, because I've compartmentalised everything for so long, and have tried to pretend that everything is and always has been fine. I need to get a grip.

There's a lot of things I need to change. My god, I'm 23 and I act like I'm 14. I have so many people I need to apologise to, and things I need to sort out. I wish the exams were over, as until they are, it's the perfect excuse to not change things.

I'm such a loser sometimes/all the time.

QOTD

Quote of the day yesterday comes from my mother:

"Men are single minded. All they're after is titties, bums and legs."




Seriously.

Discretion is my middle name

It's been pointed out that I'm very indiscrete. In fact, that I have a mouth like the channel tunnel. I don't think that's ENTIRELY accurate. I'd say I'm probably more lacking indescretion at work, which is perhaps a little bit foolish as surely that's where I should be more, I dunno, professional? It's nothing bad, mind, it's not like I've told any secrets or anything - yesterday was someone's birthday, and when it's a birthday, there's cake, a card and presents. So it's not like it's a SURPRISE or anything. Anyway, I found out about the birthday and bounded over to K to tell him, just as the birthday boy was walking past - though not exactly THAT near... Later on, the birthday boy looked on someone elses computer so see what time we'd bring the cake (again, not my fault, right?), and so he knew what to look for and when - if you know that, it's not hard to tell that I'm sticking candles in a cake and whatnot. So that was one incident. The other incident, where I admit I was completely indiscrete, was when I was jumping about and acting like a child with K, and said - really loudly - "where's SV?? I hope he hasn't gone yet!!!"... and OF COURSE he was right in front of me. Ack, it's not like I command any respect there anyway. In some ways that's a good thing - there are a couple of people there that I would not want respect from. But it does make me think, hmm, I'm 23 now, wouldn't it be nice if I wasn't treated like I was 15? Because being treated like a kid makes me act like a kid, and then it's a vicious cycle. And yes, I had a waterfight. And what??

I went to the library after work, cos I'm THAT cool, and stayed until about 2am. I got quite a lot of work done, though I was really pissed off because people were properly talking. I've never seen that in a library before. The acoustics there mean that it's fucking noisy anyway. I guess people made noise in the LSE library, but cos it was such a huge space, it didn't seem noisy. These stupid fucking girls, yesterday, chatting away. The only plus side was that they were speaking Urdu, of which I understand very little, so it didn't distract me as much as it might have done. I still told them to shut up though.

The other day I was in the lift talking to M about my hip, which has gotten really painful again. He asked when I was going to get my MRI results, and I said I didn't really want them until after exams because it was just another level of stress, just in case it was something bad - and if it's not that bad, then there's no real reason to know now. We were discussing how I had such a (and I quote) "spacker leg". Then I realised there was a man in a WHEELCHAIR behind me and I felt really bad. Oops.

My moods are all over the place at the moment. #1 is trying to pressure me into admitting there's something wrong but - seriously - I'm fine. Well, I'm not. I'm all over the place. But I don't see what talking about it will do. Funny how the only people who want to talk to me about it are the people I want to just pretend I'm fine, and the people who pretend I'm fine are the ones I want to talk to. It's probably an easy dichotomy to make, because the end result is the same - I don't talk about it - and I would justify it some other way if things were different. Anyway, yeah, I'm FINE.

Things I am going to do after exams:
1. Get hideously drunk
2. Join the gym again
3. Try not to get tendonitis again
4. When I am fitter, I'm going to invite myself along to the gym with SV and T, where I will no doubt try and beat them on the rowing machine and get tendonitis again
5. Go canoeing?? I haven't kayaked since I was about 15
6. Go camping
7. Visit my brother
8. Do a hell of a lot of karaoke

I just accidentally bleached my feet.

I can haz icecream thanks?

You know, if he wasn't such a dickhead at times, he'd be so great.
I'm not going to explain that further.

Today I finally handed in my essay. Woohoo!! Though I realised I did something stupid. On the submission form, I put the deadline as 23th April, when it was the 24th. And we lose 2% a day, so I just managed to lose myself 2%. Spaz. I had my last ever class at SOAS. It was quite a high note as it was with Song Laoshi. After the class, I went to have a word with him with A, and we told him that we thought he was great. Haha, how lame... Nevermind. I sat on the grass and chatted to A about politics for ages.

Later on I dropped by the bar and we drew a picture of O. It was AWESOME. He's quite a cartoon character anyway, so he's an easy target.

Ah, I'm feeling the SOAS nostalgia. Even though I haven't seen many of my friends in ages.

Work is alright as well, even though SS is away. Poor SS, I hope he's okay. I almost miss being called a loser, though I'm still being set up with a one legged diabetic prisoner, so that's some consolation. Tomorrow, me and SV are going to try and eat a whole loaf of bread and then I will try and touch his leg again. hehehe

Everything is aiiiiiiiiiiight. I'm doing some washing and I might even take my duvet to the dry cleaners at the weekend. I think I'm just sleep deprived. It's not so bad.

What kind of a university...

What kind of a university sends out an email like this:

I regret to have to inform you that there have been a number of incidents during 24 hour opening of the library that has caused a great deal of concern.

Students are reminded that sleeping in the library, and the consumption of food and drink is not allowed.

It's not like the old days, I'm telling you. I remember eating a curry in the library (with pasta, cos we'd run out of rice and had neither the time nor money to buy anymore) and then going to sleep in my sleeping bag under a table. I have come to the conclusion that although SOAS seems (and is in many, many ways) more relaxed than LSE, LSE is much more sleep-friendly.

University generally has turned into an unmitigated disaster. I'm looking at re-takes. My Chinese teacher is looking at me crying in his office. It's not looking great.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Oh god.
I must try and fight the urge to throw up everytime I find out something bad.
Seriously, the WORST thing has happened.

I'm sure I'll calm down in a while, but for now I'm just in shock because I never EVER thought this would happen, and also I'd kinda counted on it NEVER happening, and now it has.

Aaaargh and it's eclipsed all my good news, boooo :(

Must. Do. More. Essay. And. Less. Of. The. Panic.

貌合神离

Currently I am thinking about dropping out of uni.

Though apparently I will have to find £57 to pay a library fine before I do that. How did I get a £57 fine? It's all this one stupid little book, which doesn't even have 57 fucking pages. And of course, I haven't read it, bar the introduction, which I thought was interesting but inherently occidentalist.

I'm going to have to stop using long words and quasi-constructs if I'm going to quit uni.

I'm feeling disheartened with everything at the moment really. I went to SOAS after work and it was all weird. I don't belong there at all. Everyone was standing around playing pool, or watching people play pool. I have no interest in that - I used to do that when I was 17, and we'd skive off classes and go to WT's and drink lager. Maybe it's a rite of passage you have to go through, and in the UK you just go through it earlier, by necessity. I don't know. I find the attitude all wrong, as the boys - and it's always the boys who are playing - have some low-level sexism going on. It's very patronising, not to mention boring. Plus, some of the people who were playing were people who I tend to try and have as little to do with as possible. So it irked a little that I was spending time with them. There was something else that was weird too - a very strange dynamic that I couldn't quite place.

After work something else odd happened as well, involving me and a girl who has been trying her best to demonstrate to me just how little she likes me. Yesterday she really took the piss, and she needs to take herself, her attitude and her over-inflated sense of self and fuck right off.

I need to try and write things now. Tonight #1 and I are going out for dinner, and then to the cinema. It's going to be awesome :) But I need to make sure I've been productive between now and then, so I can really enjoy myself tonight. I haven't been to the cinema in AGES, so I'm very excited - and there's no one I'd rather go with than #1.

1 to the 2 to the 3 to the 4, limehouse police knocking at my door

I'm facing facts about my essay/degree - it's kinda fucked. But that's okay, I'm going to the disabilities office on Monday and I will tell Z everything that has happened, and it will all be okay.

Thing is, and I know this sounds ridiculous, I know I have profound thoughts about things, and I know that my views aren't stupid. I just can't face putting them onto paper. I don't want to commit. I've always been like that, not making that final effort in case it goes wrong, or deliberately sabotaging things when they're going a bit too well for me to be comfortable.

I'm such a loser - I have commitment issues with my ESSAYS.

nostalgeeeeeaaaaaaah

I was just thinking about how much I miss Lul. I haven't seen her in soooooooo long, since I guess when she woke me up at 5am to say bye, in Norway. I still owe her a pair of jeans, though they're the ones I have to wear under a dress cos they keep falling down.

Once Lul was convinced that the Chemical Brothers had subliminal messages in their songs. This is why I love Lul. And that she taped up the holes on her Silk Cuts.

veto veto veto YOU

I am veto-ing this essay. I have written nothing, I have the inclination to write even less. I missed my appointment with my supervisor today, which is really crap because a) I kind of need to see him about my dissertation of doom, and b) I have a really illadvised crush on him. Okay, yeah yeah, you shouldn't fancy your teachers, but he's really lovely and we agree on loads of anthropological things and I just kind of trust him... However he thinks I'm an odd girl, cos I was so tongue tied for half of our last meeting, and then I decided to tell him that I'm bulimic. Why did I think he'd want to hear that? I figure SOAS is much cooler than LSE, the teachers are so much more chilled. Needless to say, I didn't fancy any of my LSE teachers (even though Alan Sked spent 3 years trying to have a threesome with me and my ex), except maybe my historiography teacher, but then, only a little, because his hobby was making figurines of battles. Seriously, I googled him and he has a whole website about it. Legend. Come on, everyone has to fancy their teacher at some point. It's the whole power thing - it must be, or why else did everyone fancy that fucking bitch of a woman (the one who said "one day, I'm sure you'll find something you're good at" JUST BEFORE MY FINALS)

In summary, screw the essay. Veto it (that's only really funny if you're in my politics class).

Today I was a really, really nice girl. I went to Kings Hospital for someone else and pretended it was for me. Although that could raise slight moral problems, as my "nice" act involved lying to the NHS, I wouldn't consider it in any way immoral. It's the tip of the iceberg of what I would do for that girl. Sometimes I wonder if anyone would do the same for me - which I know is a really terrible and selfish thing to think - because I would seriously do anything for the people I care about, and yet - I don't know - and yet I'm sat here by myself trying to convince myself not to do all the things that I do (the bad things). I'm going to fail my exams. I didn't do my essay today because I got up really early to go to the hospital, and then have been too tired and anxious all day. I think I try to justify my existence by doing good deeds, which is a fairly good indicator of how little I think of myself.

Yesterday I was feeling pretty chirpy, what with seeing everyone and all that. I do really like everyone at SOAS, and it's such an awesome feeling to get to school and have people say "I've missed you so much, let me kiss you!" and stuff like that. Loads of the people who couldn't come to my birthday were around, which was lovely. I went for a pint with D, who was calling me a filthy heterosexual. I wish I'd made more time for him this year, he's a very very interesting guy and one day we will be the hottest academics in the whole country :) And then I'll exploit the power relations in the opposite direction and snare me some 18 years olds. Then of course THE INCIDENTS last night were pretty hilarious. I tenuously made up with G, though I didn't believe a word he said. Come on, the boy's a compulsive liar. So I lied and said that I'd got given a car for my birthday, but I wouldn't drive over to see him cos I didn't like his house or his face. I can't believe earlier in this post I was talking about how I was a nice girl.

I just can't help feeling like I'm being abandoned. When SOAS is over, everyone will leave for all over the world and I am worried that no one will keep in touch, with me at least.

All I ever do is complain eh.

I'd rather be in the pub.

An hour later, #1 came into my room to look for condoms. Then just now #2 came to get some. Two observations:

1) I should maybe set up my own pharmacy at this rate
2) They are quite literally shagging me out of house and home.

Boris Yeltsin has died, but to be honest I was always more of a Gorbachev girl anyway.

hammerzeit

Last night was my birthday curry and drinks - it was really, really fun! I was so chuffed so many people came out, and everyone seemed to have fun. On the way there I had a minor panic attack and couldn't stop shaking because I was so worried. I don't understand myself. #1 was trying to calm me down, but I wanted to cancel the whole thing. I'm glad I didn't though, cos it was all cool. There were no fights (quite surprising given that a lot of my friends hadn't met each other and I'd probably bitched about them all to each other - kidding) and amazingly, we all fitted in the "VIP room" of the restaurant.

Anyway, I'm a bit of a twat on my birthday. This is a fact. I get it into my head that everybody should love me. I guess it wasn't helped by A repeatedly telling me how hot I was. The good news is that I seem to be getting to be less of a twat as I get older. Anyone remembering my birthday last year will recall that I burst into tears, spilt wine over myself and threw up. Niiiiiice. So yeah, big improvement this year. I also felt much more comfortable because I knew that everyone was there because they liked me, not because they had been invited by my exboyfriend, in a kind of mutual mental masturbatory session (I don't mean that to sound harsh - it's the truth).

Of course, it wasn't just my birthday - it was SB's as well. I'm so glad that now we get to spend lots of time together. It's odd how she was literally the first person I spoke to when we started sixth form, and we're still friends. I was really annoyed that I forgot her present. It's fucking awesome, in a totally childish way (despite the fact that we're "hurtling ever nearer to thirty").

I'm quite impressed that I have waited til this late in this entry to say what I will say next (see how grownup and mature I am?). Now I don't really know what to write. I kissed a boy who makes my insides feel like jelly. It's at once a great feeling, and a disconcerting one - I don't like feeling like I'm not in control, but all I want to do is kiss him.

Also... it's probably fairly obvious to anyone reading this that I self harm. Or at least, that I used to self harm and that I started again about three months ago. Last night was the first time ANYONE has seen me naked since then, and thus seen the 'evidence'. Come on, during the play why do you think I got changed over near the guys (it was dark and no one could see). Why do you think, when I was ill, I wouldn't let anyone in the room (I was wearing shorts and was too ill to get up and put on trousers). I know I'm a mess, it's a fucking joke that at the age of 23 I still believe that this is in any way a good thing to do. I feel absolutely fucking AWFUL that K had to see that last night. I feel sick to my stomach. I promise you that this is it, this is the extent of it. Please don't think I'm crazy. I'm not, I just have this one thing, that's it.

I'm alright though, everything's under control, and actually, I'm pretty happy. I had an awesome time last night. I've got a sweet potato with coriander for dinner tonight. I've got a CD of Serge Gainsbourg. I'm going to go and find out how to say "stop - hammertime" in Chinese now (can you hear the sweet sound of PROCRASTINATION??).

joyeux anniv....

Wow so I'm 23 eh... Yesterday was my birthday. I was woken up by #1 throwing balloons on me, and I jumped out of bed feeling considerably more perky than I had done the night before, when I got into #1's bed, feeling very sad indeed. She'd bought me loads of goodies to eat - chocolate cake and strawberries :)

Went off to work, busied myself with doing sales leads (dullness-times-a-million). M, aka "picasso-potato" wished me "warm wishes" for my birthday and although I tried to control the involuntary shuddering, I couldn't help it. I got to chat to SS a lot more than usual, which was really nice. He's probably the nicest boss you could ever have. He's fair and he's really fun. Plus I like him a lot, we agree on a lot of things (including the new Rihanna song). I think if it wasn't for him and K, I would hate work. Whereas I feel that if I get my work done, I'm actually rewarded for it - whether by having a laugh or doing the stationery order (I am a strangely big fan of the stationery order). That makes it sound really lame. It's not lame at all. My job could be utter shit if the people were all awful - like M, as a prime example - but as it is, I like being there (up to a certain point, which I'll get onto in a bit).

I made a complete tit of myself when I was given a cake (normally I am the one who carries the cake so it was very interesting to be on the receiving end of it!). Apparently I didn't go too red, but I am sure I sounded like a fool. When I was trying to cut the cake, my hand was shaking so much. I hate that my hand shakes. I think it's my medication but it gets far worse whenever I have any pressure or anxiety - hence why when I had that argument with crazy-ayatollah-wannabe housemate, I turned into a lump of jelly. It was so sweet though to get a card, present and cake from everybody.

One of the other people at work had already arranged that we would go to the Fitzroy after work, so we all headed over there (en route I had a very strange conversation with my mum). To be honest, it was quite disappointing. #1 was there, which I was very happy with. A lot of people ignored me. I find it very odd how people can write "lots of love" in a card and then completely ignore me in the pub. That's not to say that the people I would consider to be my friends at work weren't nice. Some other people who I don't even know very well were very sweet and I must try to be less of a social retard when I see them next week (I am completely socially inept). But it's very odd. The pub was packed, so me, #1 and D sat outside the pub and drank wine, but in the end we got too cold and left, and went to an O'Neills. It was so much nicer, and I was glad to be with just #1 and D, who I don't know all that well, but I think is lovely.

I think I've written far more than enough about work now. After we left the pub, #1 and I stood underneath S's window and shouted her name until she came down and let us in, and we drank tea and ate twix bars. S is an amazing girl and I only wish she would recognise it.

On the way home, the train was delayed at Victoria station so we went to get the tube. We suddenly heard "Can Inspector Sands please come to the control room!" on the tannoy. 'Inspector Sands' is the London Underground's code for EMERGENCY, and whether it's meant to be a secret or not, I don't know, because we both knew about it. The staff said there was a fire and the whole station got evacuated, but there wasn't a fire - there was no fire brigade. There was a screen at ground level that showed what was happening on the platform, and we could see police, a lone man, and no trains stopping. Then a fucking BIRD did a SHIT on my jacket. It was strangely comical. Over an hour later, we finally got a train and back to the hood we went.

When we got home, we drank wine and I accidentally made #1 cry. Then I had an argument with G. Then I did something stupid. Then I fell asleep listening to my mp3 player.

Yeah your mum called, she said you're adopted.

Two choice conversations at work yesterday:

K - You remind me a little bit of Mr Darcy, you know.
M - Is it because you like to think of me naked frolicking in a pond?
K - Ewwww. What a mental image. Urgh. No!!
M - . . . .

Later on....

M - What's the name of that actress??
everyone ignores M
M - You know, the really famous one?
laughter from everyone (the AT not WITH kind)
M - She was in "Becoming Jane"
K - Becoming Jane? That's what I call you sometimes.
M - I've never heard you say that!
K - Yeah well that's because I don't say it loud enough so you can hear.

Seriously, you try working with M - "he's got a face like a Picasso painting - his features are all in the wrong place!"

After work I went to the library. It was actually a lot of fun. Me and S spent ages discussing orientalism and occidentalism and whether it could therefore be said that there's a prediliction in human nature to define oneself through opposition to a definable binary opposite (answer: too long to explain at 8:30am, though in summary, when it leads to racism then it's a bad thing). It was far more fun than it should have been to be in the disabilities room with no shoes on, writing ideas about universality on the whiteboard.

Half the time, when I speak, I think I'm a fucking AMAZING human being. The rest of the time, I hear myself and I think, what a cunt.

Off to hospital today, so no work. By the end of the day I need to have written (or at least started) my essay but at the moment I am far too confused by endless conditional parity progression tables, and would rather stay at home and listen to silly music... hello Rihanna and Jay-Z, goodbye remnants of degree...

Fuck you, Justin Timberlake, with your improbably catchy song.

Today was my first day doing normal "real world" things again. You know the sort, getting dressed and going outside. However now I feel like shit. My stomach is clearly not right - I suspect it might be IBS, which is always really pleasant. And now I have a headache that feels like my head might fall off. It's not the normal headache I get, in the middle of my head (the ridged bit that swells up really easily). Instead it's like my whole head is stuck in a very tight vice.

I'm pissed off because I don't have time to be ill again. I didn't have time last week and now I especially don't have time because I have these two essays to do and no time left to do them in. I kind of know what my argument is - in fact I think I'm quite sorted on that - it's just that I have to wade through a few books and about a hundred journal articles to get all the information I need. My mum and brother came to visit the other day and brought me some of my old folders, and looking through my Econ folder makes me sad. That was a 3rd year Econ course that I did in 2nd year, with no economics background, and I did really well. Why didn't I continue with that? Maybe I like growth patterns? Maybe I like drawing little graphs that find Harberger's triangle? So why, please tell me WHY am I doing goddamm international relations (which I have never found all that exciting)? And for the love of god, what made me think that doing language exams again would be a good idea? Did I learn nothing from the Bain Of My Existence, aka A Level German? I think we all know I should stick to what I am good at. Which appears to be Cold War Economics, but this is now BESIDE THE POINT.

Don't get me wrong, I love anthropology. I just had a bit of hissy fit cos yet another book had the names written the old way, not in pinyin. I can't connect the two, maybe it's my dyspraxia or whatever, but I have to translate it into Chinese and then back to English to figure it out. You'd think Ch'-ing = Qing would be easy but no. When I rule the world I will get all the old books reprinted so I can read them.

It's not helping that I have burst into tears at least three times today. I am such a loser. I can't stop crying ALL THE TIME. I'm having to wear less eyeliner because of this. I mean, seriously.

All I've done is complain in this post, which is a shame cos I had some nice/important things to write. Instead I'm going to get in bed and cry until I fall asleep.

This is a post all about vomiting. Just so you know.

On Wednesday morning, about 2am, and I woke up, walked to the bathroom in a haze and threw up. Then I brushed my teeth and went back to bed. This isn't that weird for me. At about 5.30am I woke up again and had to seriously RUN to the bathroom, where I threw up more. I had a pain in my stomach like I was being stabbed from the inside, and I got back into bed, crying. I hid from my housemates and shouted at #1's boyfriend when he offered to make me tea. I tried to sleep but everything hurt too much.

By about 11am, everyone had left. By this point I had vomited everything I'd eaten in the previous two days. I'd tried to sleep on the bathroom floor. My stomach hurt so much that I thought my appendix had burst. I'd tried to sleep on the sofa because it's darker in there, before going back to my bed. I knew I was getting dehydrated so I was trying to drink water. At this point I threw up ALL OVER MY BED. I ran to the bathroom, where I threw up on my leg. Truly disgusting.

In a moment of lucidity I stripped my bed, then got out the spare mattress in the living room, which, being hospital surplus, is wipeable. I got a bucket and put it next to this new bed. I spent the next two days in this bed, occasionally getting up to throw up either water or small amounts of dry toast. I also probably spent a lot of time crying and moaning in my sleep. I dunno. I slept a lot. My head hurt so when I got up I had to put my invalid hat on.

Three thoughts occured to me during one of my more surreal vomiting episodes:
1) Isn't your food only meant to stay in your stomach for 3 hours?? I know I have a love/hate relationship with my digestive system at the best of times, but am I keeping food in my stomach for 2 days? That's surely wrong.
2) Throwing up only water is strangely satisfying.
3) Man, I never realised bile was so YELLOW.

Anyway, I went to the doctor and she said I had gastroenteritis.

This is what is said on the hospital bed:

Pressure sores. Nice.

I don't think I can stop crying. Someone has written the nicest thing about me, and since I read it I have been weeping in my room and ignoring the banging on the door.

I am such a crap person for not noticing what was going on and for being so absorbed in my own world. There are far more important things than me, or what I think, yet somehow I think every attack is directed at me and I have this overinflated sense of self. When really, if I opened my eyes, I would see that there is far more going on, of far more worth, than the bullshit I have in my emo little life. I'm such a fucking idiot.

I don't think I can say sorry enough. But I'm really sorry for not being there - mentally as well as physically - and for being so blind as to everything in the world.

My god I am so far off an adult. I can't believe anyone ever takes advice from me.

And screw these essays.

Note to self

I'm really saying "oooooh yeaaaah" a bit too much.

If French is the language of love, Spanish is the language of lust.

Today I'm feeling quite chirpy really. My back is sunburnt but it doesn't hurt too much cos I've put lots of cream on it. Everyone was shocked at how red I was - I'm like, I'm IRISH, this is our natural colour! Anyway, yesterday was awesome. I love summer in London. I can still do handstands - woohoo - but after literally FOUR, I got shooting pains up my arms (hello, tendonitis!) and had to stop. My body hates me. It's basically an ill-formed, bright red CALAMITY.

Now I'm at home fooling myself that I might do some work, but instead I'm facebooking and listening to music (all of which I hate... I need new music) and trying to decide whether learning the words to "My Way" in Spanish would be a COMPLETE waste of time. I'm also getting really pissed off with the amount of flies in my room. I reckon it's cos of the skips outside, but it's so annoying. My room is not a fly sanctuary for fuck's sake. I am swatting them with a rounders bat, oooooh yeah.

Yeah, well just watch out you don't end up in a bath of sand.

Four day weekend ooooooh yeeeeeeaaaaaah. And it's warm. And we're going to Hampstead Heath and I'm going to go in the ponds. And loads of other cool stuff is happening this weekend.

The night before last I watched "Ultimate Boy Party" and so spent quite a lot of time at work yesterday slapping my face. Then we got worried that maybe the really sweet Chinese girl who sits next to me is disgusted by all our talk of gay porn. I can only console myself with the thought that I'm a gora and therefore morally suspect from the beginning. No respect, etc. Anyway, work descended into marshmallow throwing, and chump-face (irritating boy opposite me) came up with some bullshit idea about eco-forfeits or something. I have found that putting in my headphones when he starts talking is quite effective, even if my mp3 player isn't on. It's a psychological thing. He's just such an awful person - and such a misogynist. I can't wait until he leaves to join his crappy accountancy firm. Maybe then he'll find people he can actually respect (just as long as they fit his blinkered world view of who is superior to him etc).

Anyway, after work I went to Zhao Laoshi's birthday. It was full of journalists - and my teacher, who studiously ignored me. It was a bit weird actually, the whole situation. P was being a bit funny with me - again - and only seemed to act like he didn't think I was the most annoying person he knew when he was talking to someone else who he clearly thought was even MORE boring than me. I'm getting a bit tired of all these silly games. When I told him about my birthday, he sort of laughed at me. Now, okay, maybe I overanalyse... but why would I try and see that in someone? He clearly thought it was a stupid idea. Meh. Eventually M and D turned up, which was cool because they're lovely and at least I know where I am with them. They may be far younger than P, but they act in a far more mature and straight forward way. Unfortunately I had to leave soon after they got there :(

#1's leaving drinks were quite fun, yet more journalists, and a lot of drunken silliness. We got invited to France. Eventually me and #1's gentleman friend dragged her home, where I licked her face, and she licked my ear. Then the fuckwit in the flat above ours played some shite music ALL FUCKING NIGHT.

I'm might walk over to Peckham now. Peckham is officially safer than Oxford Street, but these snobs won't believe me. Oh well, I win.

I have read approximately nothing. Ever.

I take hope in the knowledge that I wasn't the only one who fell for the April Fool's thing. At least I only called ONE person (eh Omar...)

Anyway, the plans for my birthday thing are slowly coming together - seeing as we've been talking about it for five years, this year I will be having a joint birthday celebration with SB. This makes me happy because if no one turns up that I've invited, I can steal all her friends and then tell her none of mine came cos they don't like her. I hope she reads this, the bike geek.... obviously I'm only joking cos she's wicked.

Would you like to see a picture of my ex boyfriend??

Quite the looker eh? I love that photo.

Nothing much of wit to write today. Met up with E, the world's greatest stage manager, after work. I think she's absolutely fantastic. If I write any more it will be sycophantic. I'm clearly rubbish at writing anything that isn't at least vaguely pessimistic - just call it realism and pacify me, thanks.

things that go "hoho" in the night

Several amusing things today:

1. "I just found a whole bunch of pictures of you and Mark West [a guy from school] which I will sell to The Sun when you're prime minister. You have to see these! Am in uni tomorrow. Innit." - potentially hugely humiliating photos of me aged 15, courtesy of one of my friends from school who now goes to my uni and I had the whole 'too much grolsch, not enough sleep, post essay, drunken fighting, one night stand' thing with.

2. "Dear Hattie (if I may)" - how much do I love my supervisor??? I haven't even met him and already I think he's awesome. I might go and google image him now actually.......... okay, he's not a middle aged chinese man so the chances of him fancying me are ZERO but I could see a glorious future for us.

I need to stop with the inappropriate crushes.

3. This story ... it's not true, right?

Please don't think I want anything else but karaoke.

I was just THIS close to throwing up all over the bathroom.

My insides are playing a cruel trick on me. Must have been the gold I was wearing huh.

On the plus - and slightly more constructive - side, this weekend I have washed some clothes and defrosted the fridge. #1 reckoned it was about to explode, and if I fucked up the fridge in any way I would completely ruin the glorious image of when my ex broke the fridge. He decided the best way to de-ice it was to hammer and chisel at the ice, but he only had one working arm because he'd been knocked off his bike and broken his arm.... so of course he chiseled through the gas stuff that makes the fridge work....
... I got home and he'd tried to fix it with an elastoplast and a bit of blu-tack. And was drinking a beer, on the wet, icy kitchen floor.

At this point it would be so easy to make a sweeping generalisation. And I would like to think that I'm above that. But what with that and S's cousin who dug a hole in the floor so that the door would fit, rather than filing the door, I think the only conclusion to be made is obvious.

Anyway, I'm off to check on the fridge now.

semi-professional unprofessionalism

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

lithium

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

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

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

Things are okay? (no they're not)

THE CRUCIBLE is over... booo

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

the curse is never broken

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

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

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

My body is a cage, to paraphrase the Arcade Fire

Perhaps it's time to be honest.

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

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

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

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

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

You're riding that bike like a horse!!

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

The exclamation mark is overrated.

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

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

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

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

I need to read more books.

Maybe I won't do anymore mid-week drinking?

Yesterday after class I went to the bar to cut F's hair, but then someone shouted my name - and it was J, who I went to music college with, who I have been facebook-stalking a little bit. It's been FIVE YEARS since I last saw her, and she's really lovely. I always thought she was one of the coolest people at RCM, not to mention that she was clearly much better at the violin than me (but so was everyone). It was so cool to catch up, and she's invited me to her birthday. I absolutely love bumping into people because it kinda makes up for the fact that I didn't keep in touch with anyone because I am teh loser sometimes.

F decided to pay me for the haircut by buying me lots of beer, which of course meant that I ended up staying in the bar all evening and not doing my homework or going to the gym (though my hip is still very sore, so I couldn't have done it anyway). F is great, he's really one of the nicest people I've ever met, and I told him EVERYTHING and I cried a bit but it was all okay.

A tramp called me a bitch. I was not impressed.

let's just keeping touching, let's just keep singing...

I have come to a very frightening realisation. On the coach on the way home today, it came to me just how bad things have become. Thankfully, I have lost the ability to cry, or I would have cried all the way home. This is deliberately cryptic because I haven't told anyone about this. This afternoon I had a nap and when I woke up I wished I had never been to sleep. How can a dream be so real, and so painful, and so brutally correct about the future? How can that thing have happened in my dream in such a horrific way? I half wish I'd never dreamt it, though really I'd do anything to go back and do it again, even though it was a dream. If there was any chance it could happen in real life, I think I would cry. But it won't, I know it won't. Possibly because it's what I want most. I could scream with how much this is getting to me, and how much I just wish there was even the smallest chance. My mind is going over all the things that have already happened, and try as I might to construct something positive out of it, all I can see is a colourful blur of catastrophe. This is terrible, truly terrible, and if I could stay in bed forever and ever I would crawl in right now, and never go out, and never see anyone again. I feel sick.

On a completely unconnected note, I have had a good weekend. We went to the countryside, to #5's mum's house. #1 and I rocked up there without even washing, so spent the afternoon having a bath and getting ready, and marvelling at the house. In the evening there was a murder mystery party! It was so cool!! It was 1920s themed, and I was a belly dancer. I looked quite ridiculous but it was fun. Everyone was really nicely dressed up, and despite my fear of my own social retardedness, I didn't spaz up too much. At about midnight I found #1 curled up on a bed, so I put her to bed. Lightweight. I had a snog (or ten) with a very attractive 22 year old (kinda young for me!) and his friends took the piss out of me. I like to think I redeemed myself with my words of wisdom later on to an upset girl. I guess while I am not always a nice drunk, I can be nice sometimes. And thankfuly I wasn't the murderer, or the murdered one.

In the morning I woke up on the floor, covered in scratches, next to the boy I'd been snogging. #1 and #5 were in the bed (the bed I should have been sleeping in until I decided I wanted to do a bit of teenage fumbling on the floor!) and they peered over at me and mocked me. I was wearing only my pants and my sleeping bag, so when I stood up to get in the bed (a bit of 3 in a bed mansions love) I flashed everyone. I bet that was appreciated. My hip is extremely painful today because of sleeping on the floor, though it was kinda worth it cos I fell asleep being hugged, which was very very nice. Still, I can now only sleep face down, star shape, which I suppose isn't a good thing.

Ireland beat England in the rugby at Croke Park. Like I even know anything about rugby.

I'm going to go and take some painkillers and go to bed now. I wish I had painkillers strong enough to blot out how I feel inside.

You're like a fucking Jack Russell, you are!

Why is it that when I'm at work I am so tired, and no matter how much really shit coffee (I don't care if it's arabica, it's still shit) I drink, I'm knackered. Then I come home and I'm wide awake.

Also, I'm starting to scare myself with how much I'm drinking.

On the plus side, I have a good costume and I have decided to practice translations by translating whatever #1 says when she's on the phone. This didn't work out well when she had a rant about Maggie Thatcher as I don't know the words for "iron", "milk-snatcher", or "selling out the miners". I guess there is yet work to be done.

I'm feeling sad today, though I like to think I hide it well. I don't want anyone I know to get a boyfriend/girlfriend cos I'll be loneleeeeeee but I think it's a bit late for that. Boo.

Happy Pig Year!

I'm trying to get on top of things domestically tonight. I was talking to M earlier and it turns out I am as bad as a boy what with the lack of laundry and the stack of old newspapers and all that. So I've done some washing and I'm thinking about clearing all the books out of my bed. Only thinking about it obviously.

Things have been reasonably exciting here recently. On Thursday I went to theatre in my new capacity as a theatre critic. Read my review here. Being a press performance, there was free food and wine, and #1 and I made the most of it. We got chatting to some of the actors afterwards, and I got to touch one of them on the leg. We did lots of flirting and then we had a semi-snog but I had a mouthful of chocolate so it was a bit of a disaster. He was hot stuff, mmmm. He had very powerful legs and #1 and I have decided that were I to shag him, it would be the sex of dreams... getting-chucked-about-the-bedroom-in-a-Daniel-Craig-style-sex. Obviously the next day at work I did little else but internet stalk him cos I'm cool like that.

On Friday I went to the ballet, though it wasn't ballet - it was Chinese dance. The first half was modern dance, and it was quite dull. The second half was more ethnographic and it was much more enjoyable. It made me miss dancing a lot. A guy from my culture & society class was there, and he wasn't enamoured - he said the performance reminded him of cheap perfume. But I liked it, it's nice to see things that are a bit different....

... And it was apt because it was Chinese New Year on Sunday. 新年快乐！I went to Chinatown with #1, #5 and #1's friend from work, A. We met P, V, their mum, their other sister and a whole bunch of other people. It was cool, we wandered about and watched the lion dance, and then the fireworks, and had a look at Trafalgar Square (if anyone could tell me why there was a tank there, I would be very happy). We ate at Nando's, with M, then went to the pub, and P came along, and it was all really cool. We had a paper dragon that we have called Dinosaur. Here's a photo of the day:

We look well special.

Anyway, it was really fun, and I did have lots more to write but I've just dyed my hair and I have blue dye all down my face and I am going to have to scrub it off. So that's a good night then...

Miaow.

Christ, I haven't written anything for ages. I haven't done anything particulrakly exciting in the meantime.

It turns out that the time I woke up in the bathroom, I hadn't been there all night. I was in there about 20 minutes, and I was talking to #5 the whole time. I can only think that I was sleepwalking, there is no logical explanation for why I would have taken my duvet in the bathroom and slept under the sink. Plus, I often talk in my sleep and surely if I can do that, I can walk? I only hope I have not been doing other crazy shit in my sleep. G always used to laugh at me when I talked in my sleep. Especially the time I called him a wanker. And the time when I fell out of bed onto a crate of beer and slept there.

I need to get dressed and go to school. I will write later, as I have plenty to say about my NEW CAREER and the HOT HOT ACTOR I SNOGGED. (not that I'm boasting obviously)

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.