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.