this must be the place

current dilemma:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ak1bckaKS4

or

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-uZlvKXnYU4

i can't pick a favourite. despite the fact i'm drunk this still remains a major issue for me because when i become an important cultural theorist and commentator, a film will probably be made of my life that makes my semi-mediocre british death look epic and hollywood tragic. and i have to pick a version to put in my will for the boy-fight that sparks off the suicide. good job no one has significantly covered sleepflower by the manics cos that'll be the film's goddamn signature, way things are going.

i spent the evening with people who know how to have a good time. people who think i'm intelligent, and people who don't know me well enough to assume i'm not. i haven't had as good a time in fucking forever.

we saw a re-enactment of the sinking of the mary rose. the henry viii mary rose that now is kept in a shed in the dockyard and kept wet else it'll collapse and rot. which got merked and is a skeleton. in tudor times. i shit you not when i say it involved drum n bass, dance routines, fireworks, and an electro remix of 'in the navy'. you still can't imagine the historical inaccuracy. they did not have the technology for that amount of bass vibes and pseudo-disco moves. don't get me started on the strobe lights. so lizzy and i ran through the crowd pretending to be motorbikes, yelling BRRRRUMMMMMMM at the top of our lungs. hey, when in inaccurateland, right?

also, when the replica disco-ship burned down, we got a hull full of flames and a burning crows-nest that if you've ever, y'know, breathed, looked like a genuine bonafide burning cross. we jumped to conclusions about the council, but hey: make your own assessment.

putting stuff in boxes always makes me stop, amazed, and marvel at how much stuff i've accumulated. i have just packed away all my books and lifting the boxes on top of each other has actually given me the shakes. tomorrow it's ruthless keep-or-cull on my clothes. i am in a strange place at the moment, i have so much i need to do but i feel i need the new start of a new house before i can do any of it. still no semblance of a routine in my life. i am promising myself i will sort that out when i get to the new place.

i've been reading old vogues, painting my nails crayon green, and daydreaming about things an awful lot. i'm doing my best not to focus on the negative, it's hard since it's always so prevalent. and i don't want to not deal with it, i don't want to just bury my head in the sand. it is difficult, since my job is so social, everyone sees and knows me, and if i get a little misty eyed people want me to talk about it. and sometimes you have to be careful who you tell your demons to, i mean, there are certainly people in life who only make them bigger.

i've been compulsively writing in my paper journal lately. problem is it's all crap. just ranting about boys, about my body, about general anxiety, it sounds like i'm 15 again. i got a letter from the sussex psychiatric support unit, which i wasn't sure whether to smile or cry at.

i'm supposed to be going drinking down on the beach tonight. since i don't have two beans to rub together i'm not sure how that will pan out, but i think what i need is cold cans, sea air, and good friends right now. since everything else in my life seems like a bad episode of the oc, that is. there's apparently some sort of fireworks display this evening. could be cool.

last night jameson referred to me in casual conversation as 'the strngest woman in the world'. peoople seem to think i'm made of iron girders, but i never feel it. hindsight is the only way i ever get any sense of my own strength or achievement.

also, my new favourite thing is to wear things the wrong way. shirts as dresses, lipstick as blusher, necklaces as belts. i think it fits my chaotic state of mind.

my life feels so messy at the moment. all i seem to be doing is tying up loose ends, only for another one to present itself, both financially and emotionally. i mean obviously i'll go on the record here as saying that early summer has always been a supremely difficult time for me, but this year life seems to have gone totally haywire.

at the moment i'm stuck dealing with the fact that my grandma's husband, who has, effectively been my grandad to all intents and purpose, not to mention a primary intellectual influence and a much-needed emotional stabilizer in my family, has got prostate cancer. i'm also dealing with the fact that my mum threatened suicide on the phone on sunday, got really angry with me for phoning an ambulance, and only started speaking to me again mid-week, but is obviously unavailable as an emotional outlet. tensions in the house are at an all time high, all because i can't pay a damn bill as i'm waiting on some money, but i move out in five days so i'm totally aware of how dodgy it looks.

i modelled in a fashion show on wednesday and it shattered my self esteem. obviously it wasn't hugely convenient that i was in the most messed up of moods when i started, but also i was with nate and spikey mark, two friends who, when i'm on form, i have prime banter with, but that day i was really not in the mood to be the perennial butt of the joke. it didn't help that i was having to be unconditionally feminine which always makes me feel vulnerable. i need my stupid devil may care bravado about my appearance to survive the jokes about it. i have to act like i don't care what people think about how i look because i do care. it would be really nice to be feminine and delicate and pretty but i'm not, and that pisses me off, so i act like i'd like nothing less. that's how it works. by the time hair and makeup had finished styling me into, well, not looking like me, and pointed out exactly what and why they were modifying, and i'd gotten changed next to the god damn wonderbra models, i felt like hell and walked down the stupid runway with brimming bambi eyes. i had to go and have a cry-break before i could rejoin everyone else, rip out all the stupid hairgrips, and navel gaze while the conversation went on around me.

i spent half my shift at work last night welling up too. i had the most surreal and stupidly awful night out afterwards. i got a taxi down to waster with nate, who'd noticed i felt like hell and given me a day's grace from the putdown humour. soon as we got there i got involved with beer qand shots and noticed dazza, this guy i like, with becky, the girl he's started to have a thing with, which i'm totally fine with, but nate was telling me i shouldn't be fine with it. we ended up arguing about it because i don't see that doing anything about it would help, but nate thinks i'm chickenshit. he ended up getting majorly pissed off with me and leaving. i got sidetracked by an old gap coworker who said she couldn't believe how brave i was walking out in front of all of them during the fashion show, on account of how i was never exactly miss popular at gap, which didn't do my self esteem any favours, but i fronted it out, cos i knew she meant well. i asked daz if he knew where nate was and told him i think he'd left cos i pissed him off and he asked why we were fighting so i told him. do you ever get those moments where your brain is desperately trying to pull the words back but they've already come out of your mouth? yeah it was fully one of those. i cut my losses and left. i mean man, what a fully stupid evening.

life is just so ludicrous at the moment. hannah says i sound like a soap, and i do. i still haven't finished the famished road. i'm so screwed up i can't focus on reading at the moment.

anyway i have to go to the letting agent. i can't believe how lame, whiny, and gossipy that whole stupid thing sounded. i guess i just supremely needed to vent.

HOW MUCH HAVE YOU CHANGED IN 6 YEARS

-------------6 years ago----------

1.) How old were you? 15
2.) Where did you go to school? at the time i'd probably just emerged from my ill fated year at private school and was at nsg. if we're going to the day.
3.) Where did you work? on northampton market's primary hippy jewellery and smoking paraphernalie stand.
4.) Where did you live? in the biggest room i've ever had. with my mum and dad.
5.) Where did you hang out? at the top of abington street. and the racehorse back room. unless there was a sleepover. i never lied, but my parents were strict; i used to bless the sleepovers.
6.) Did you wear glasses? i always wanted to. i want to even more now. the amount i flick m hair and the way i dress i reckon i *am* the librarian fantasy. but it's tragic that i reckon that's the most attractive i'll ever be.
7) Who was your best friend(s): becca gill.
8.) How many tattoos did you have? none.
9.) How many piercings did you have? ears, lip, nose.
10.) What car did you drive? i didn't, i still won't. i'm green.
11.) Had you been to a real party? i went to private school parties, at this point. which from what i gather from my year; they are the same as all the others except everyone except me could afford drugs, and my parents were the only people who owned a house that one of these parties happened in that realized drugs were going on.
12.) Had You had your heart broken? by 15? no. that shit was waiting for me at 17.

-------------3 years ago----------

1.) How old were you?: 18
2.) Where did you go to school? we'll go with university of portsmouth. latter half.
3.) Where did you work? i wrote undergraduate essays for pay. i didn't really want a real job.
4.) Where did you live? harry law halls of residence.
5.) Where did you hang out? mostly mine or dan's room. but if an outside trip was necessary, i'd go sit in the trafalgar with the boys. only on weeknights though.
6.) Did you wear glasses? i wish. i still want them.l
7.) Who were your best friend(s)? pete. i still talk to him about everything.
9.) How many tattoos did you have? still none.
10.) How many piercings did you have? just ears and nose. even with a 1.2 mm it still doesn't suit my face in the lip. shame.
11) What car did you drive? still didn't. green issues.
12) Had your heart broken? yes it was. thanks a lot for the lack of closure, j.

--------------------Today--------------------

1.) How old are you?: 21
2.) Where do you go to school? i'm just about to graduate from university of portsmouth (with a first, aieee, drinks for my grad?) then hopefully (stuff provided) to sussex for a masters in critical theory.
3.) Where do you work? the deco.
4.) Where do you live? in 8 (makes me unhappy) goodwood road, soon to move in to 3 highland road.
5.) Where do you hang out? at work, anywhere they might play me enough electro to justify the entry fee, BEER FRIDAY, hms pinup, black cat, my bed, the sea, the common, my bed. i do a lot of hanging. so did my stepdad; i get it from him.... (that was meant to be funny)
7.) Who are your best friend(s)? daniel clare and krista rose farmer. secondary = hannah fenner, rosie barwick emily partridge, and other people who are like, still invited to my birthday party, try not to be mad, rite?
i9.) How many tattoos do you have? still none. i planed to be inked as a 21st present but fuck, rent doesn't pay itself.
10.) How many piercings do you have? just a nose ring and ears. nose was a stud while i workerd at gap but when i whacked the ring back in i got so many compliments re: my actual face that i shan't take it out unless i get paid big this summer.
11) What car do you drive? still don't. still care about fumes + earth = bad.
12) Had your heart broken? yeah actually. i hate to admit it. but to those in the know, i was really pissed re: what frenchboy did to me. also, it was a slow heartbreak, but i believe, weirdly, i'm destined to beckon skinny blonde down here so we can have an ill-fated marriage. see you soon, p.


WHAT WERE YOU DOING...
1 MINUTE AGO: being drunk annd feeling sorry for myself, and filling out this.
1 HOUR AGO: see above. but i get singleminded when i'm drunk and home, i just listen to regina spektor and write in the paperjay about what a sexual retard i am.
1 DAY AGO: wow, where to start, packed what we worked out to be 1/12 of my read books (5 becks boxes), sent supplementary documents to stupid sussex, washed up everything in my room (a lot), called my dad, cooked puy lentil pilaf, squeezed intoo a dress i thought was cute to people who weren't 60 or lobotomized, worked, drank after work, came home, felt like hell. depends on your classificiation of a day, really.

1 YEAR AGO: being at parties where indie kids took mandy so they could dance to d'n'b and fuck each other and feeling like the perennial left-out-kid.

I LOVE: clean sheets, the fact that my manager and most boys in the pub literally bristled when i got approached by wankers for the frirst time ever tonight, my mum and her support over the weekend, the fact i got a chance to wish mr. joe black support on his euro tour by chance en route to work, the fact when i say what i mean it comes out crap but peop[le like me anyway, the fact a guy who stikes me as a lothario may think i give a fuck because i'm smiley when really i fancy his mate a lot which i find funny, the fact i'm moving out in a month.

I HATE: people who instantly assume i'm dumb if i accidentally lisp/talk with a regional accent/happen to be drunk/am on shift. jokes on you, i perform. i'm also pissed that i have to leave the lovely fenner, and i'm not so happy with being beyond dirt poor. prison rollies and shit coffee make you sick of living after a while.
I FEAR: moths. not getting into sussex. my current scenario fucking up my future.

I FEEL: sick of being myself. i'd like a fucking day off from my stupid life. i'd like someone stronger just to take my family on the shoulders and deal with all the insight, because i can not be arsed anymore, i don't have the energy anymore.

I HIDE: not much. but it's remarkable what people miss. everyone's busy, i toitally get that, and i totally get the gestures extended from those who have, i don't knoow what i want, i probably don't want contact when i expose this side of me, but i'd like someone to get it.

I MISS: not knowing anything about anything. i grew up far too fast. and so did half the people i know. it's no wonder i'm not having kids; watching/being parent to the real parents. imagine being the only emotional constant in your own life. i don't need too and neither do most of my friends. i need relief and so do they, but i don't believe we'll get it.

I NEED: to simmer down and wear more dresses that suck my stomach in. but really i need a totally thorough series of counselling, and maybe a friend to sit me down and tell me to shut up and stop being so angry, tell me to think things through more than i have been cos nothing exists in a vacuum.


I THINK: no one asked me nuffink so i'll shut the fuck up, actually.

First piercing: ears.

First credit card: my parents don't belive you should get into debt for aything that doesn't appreciate in value; they cited education and property. i don't believe owning property is an investment so the only debt i have is student loans. i realize i could have just said no, but i didn't.

Last big car ride: deciding to go home for christmas since my mum was a widow'n'all. i came back 29/12/08, if you'd like to know.
Last movie seen in theater: that borat one, with pete, in what, like the first year? maybe secobd when we were trying to make it work. either way, i don't go to the cinema, they don't show anything i want to see, and regardless, i cook up better snacks.

Last food consumed: brown rice and lentil pilaf. don't worr;, i'm as sorry about living up to the image, as you are that i did.sometimes i eat chips, honestly.

Last person you texted/called: my dad

Last CD played: live through this: hole

Last drink drank: strongbow


SHORT ANSWER..
I AM: distressed to the max
I HAVE: no idea what is going to happen to me
I LIKE: to think about how it'd be if i'd been coonfident from day 1
I WISH: i had something that would make my mum & dad proud of me.
I DANCE: badly, but if i like the song, i'm happy.
I CRY: end of edward scissorhands. it'[s the only thing that can. seriously.

FAVORITES..
NUMBER: 6 (kir-sty-lou-ise-mitch-ell + K-i-r-s-t-y) = arbitrary lucky number
COLOUR: sky blue, like richmond i guess.
DAY(S): beer friday recently, but i have always liked fridays since i got kicked out of midday critical thinking lessons and used to take half of morning english lit with me to literally drink coffee and shop in town. winner.
MONTH(S): january. i always make lists but i don't formally resolve. it always makes me feel better/fresher than i am, by default.
SEASON: autumn. always reminds me of new school terms. and i liked them, i worked really hard at them. only time i worked hard at all (for various reasons) before uni.
DRINK: diet coke


IN THE LAST 2 DAYS, HAVE YOU...
CRIED?: of course. i'm in the middle of a postgrad crisis right here, it's about 70% of my activity right now.
HELPED SOMEONE?: i've helped a few people,but not as many as needed it. i've not been in the right place.
GOTTEN SICK?: no, just rode out what i've already got out (non-contagius if you even read this far)
GONE TO THE MOVIES?: nope.
SAID 'I love you'?: to my mum and dad. seperatelyl. woo to the hoo for divorce? oh, nobody?
TALKED TO AN EX?: i have a few who i always talk to. they're my friends and i'm glad we think of each other and text randomly. it always makes me smile.
WRITTEN IN A DIARY?: hour every day. always.
HAD A SERIOUS TALK? with my dad. actually it was horrible. i felt so guilty and awful afterward, like i'd been 15 and witholding contact but that was never the case.

_______ Best ________
1. Male Friends: dan. he will never read this but i'll miss him so much that i'll go into a frenzy withut him. also pete, weirdo-ly but obviously. and to be honest he gets few shout-outs, but richard. email me again mate, i promise i'll be attentive this time: my dissertation, i thought it'd kill me, i'm sorry i didn't have time. but i know you read this. please?
2. Female Friend(s): krista. rosie.; and hannah, and em and lara and lizzy.
3. Best Age: so far, my 18th, waking up on my brother's bed, making a coffee, smoking, the neighbours coming round with their leftover papers 'case mum or dad wanted to save them and me crawling intoo bed with my best mates in my own bed and just kipping.
4. Best Memory: mate, you really want to know?: it's actually the last weekend before pete and i actually fell apart as a relationship. i think the minute he drove away we knew we'd have the final row but we spent so much time outside, we bought sunflowers, had coffee, i made dinner, we sat in the park, we went out, next day went along the seafront, just had a lovely time. the breakup in the week has never taken the shine off that weekend even though i couldn't be with him again. that is the most important and best memory to me. there's so many other good memories but that isn't the point.

_______ Worst ________
1. Time Of Day: mid afternoon, talk about a slump, i mean, what is there to look forward to mid-afternoon? fuck all, you just have to keep going til late afternoon until you can see the end of your shift, right?
2. Day Of The Week: sunday. if you're in a real bloack hole, your mates are usually too hungover to sense any urgency in your texts.
3. Food: eggs where you can see the yolk seperated from the yolk. that's from when i was little. also i don't like ready meals, or meat flavoured crisps, or any form of meat you can buy detached from the animal that has no use in cooking (or is mass produced cos it's fucking popular). yes, that includes pork scratchings, you pikey, and yes that includes goose fat, you guardian-slave. this is because it shows disrespect for the carcass you're about to fucking roast, or if you just buy bits, it shows you gotta learn to ropst whole or get online and learn how to fillet (it's cheaper, whatever you do, and easy to find, and not hard). ok i've have a haribo weakness but i'm still more guiltless than you fucks.

4. Memory: my stupid bastard family when i left home. they all kknow i'm still pissed about that and won't ever come back. i've watched them all be be all 'hey, so, i'm sorta not makin' up for thinkin' or ageein' with you bein' what's wrong with the fam'ly' for just over two years. i never know what to think but i have to look after 'em, right?
_______ Last ________
1. Person you saw: alex
2. Talk on the phone: my dad
3. Person you kissed: proper or friend-wise? cos friend-wise, dan. proper, tim.

_______ First ________
1. Kiss: Russell Miller in northampton. not gonnna lie, he was totally rubbish and i did make up for lost time.
2. Serious b/f or g/f: Chris. self esteem leech.
3. Best friend: Timothy Simon Rich. what a man, what a man, what a mighty good maaaaaaaan.

_______ Today ________
1. What are you doing now: listening to my housemates get up for their real jobs.
2. Tonight: BEER FRIDAY!
3. Wearing: just the dress i was wearig at work/for drinks after. control tights, and spanx got the better of me. common complaint, i'm a total fatty since the dissertation. computer hours don't suit me.
4. What did you eat for lunch: sandwich with tomatoes and cream cheese. wasn't enough, still ate double helpings of dinner. don't care. might get fat but world won't end.

_______ Tomorrow ________
1. Is: BEER FRIDAY
2. Got any plans: BEER FRIDAY

so i currently have a to-do list about a mile long to be getting on with, what with the search for a second job and the house move. it's strange packing my books up into boxes and taking down my fashion photography from the walls for the fourth time in a row. i'm getting pretty used to being a nomad. there's one stray library book i need to find before graduation, because they don't let you graduate unless you've paid library fines. stupid cambridge companion to the gothic. at least it served me well, i got a grade high enough on my tropical gothic unit to raise my shitty grade to above seventy, so it seems like a first may not be out of my reach after all. although i will have barely scraped it by the skin of my teeth. it would be nice not to underachieve for once in my life. it always seems like i do my brain an injustice by slacking.

i've been thinking a lot lately about intelligence and so on. i don't know, i'm getting really very tired of people thinking of me as stupid. it's funny, because to a certain extent in everyday life i rely on an image of total airheadedness, a kind of 'if people don't know what's important to me, they can't get at me' maneouvre, but then i get frustrated when people dismiss my opinions on things because they've taken the image seriously. so, like most things i complain about in my life, it's entirely my own fault. it's like i used to say to anita in counselling, i find it really frustrating but i can't seem to find any other way to be. she seemed to think it was ok, because at least i was acknowledging the source of my frustrations, which is the first and hardest step to confronting them. i wish i knew the next step, is all.

i slept for the longest time last night. i went to sleep at 1am, woke up at 1pm. literally 12 hours. i woke up in a sweat, from some of the most awful dreams i've had in a long time. i seem to keep dreaming about betrayal and being let down lately, but i don't know, i'm not feeling that way in my everyday life, so i guess that further affirms my theory that dreams can't really have that much bearing on the unconscious, unless freud was right rather than just being a handy tool for literary analysis.

i need more structure to my days. more than just a cobbled together list of things to pack and a promise to call my dad and plans to cook lentil pilaf for dinner. i can't wait to get my cv's dashed off and get applying for a second job. i'm sick of sitting around in my room thinking of all the things i could be doing as opposed to what i should be doing. maybe i should start setting myself academic essays? i'm starting to entirely believe what i said to maggie which was that i think academic focus is what held me together this year. i've got a shark scenario going on, at the moment i feel like my movements are slowing down and all the things that should have affected me emotionally this year, like roy dying and me holding my family together emotionally and the fact i still feel isolated a lot of the time, they're catching up with me. i need distraction and routine. i need something more than lying in bed watching interiors and eating ice cream.

at least tomorrow i have several reasons not to be in the house. that's a bonus.

i couldn't stop staring at people's faces and their eyes. the fact that human beings talked, laughed, wept, sweated, sang, without some visible thing which made all the animation possible, the fact that they were alive in their bodies, contained this thing called life in their flesh, seemed incredible to me. i watched babies with wonder. i couldn't get over the fact that we can look out of our eyes, out of our inner worlds, but that people, looking at us, couldn't see into our eyes, our thoughts, our inner worlds. how transparent one feels, but how opaque: it mystified me.

the famished road, ben okri

lately i'm trying to stop drinking too much. my lungs are crapping out on me, my stomach, my kidneys, my head, all of it. and i'm frightened that my time of the month just never comes but each test i take is blue-line-free. it's hard though, when your friends expect you to be both the life and the soul.

i'm moving again soon. i won''t be too sorry to say goodbye to this house, this tiny room, these slowly sputtering out friendships. we've all always been moving gradually in different directions, and i think we know it. i don't think it's something to mourn anymore, or get angry at, or anything. i don't think it's anything.

i'm scared of my future. i think that's why i've been damaging myself, blotting out anything that requires thought. it's made me feel isolated, and now i'm trying to realize my way back into connection. trying to read, to write, to really talk to people again, to think about things before i open my mouth rather than after. that's a better way to live, but it's hard to get back there once you've dug yourself into a hole. harder than i thought.

i'm not sure what made me realize that things have to change. maybe the fact it's taken me over a week to read a book for pleasure, maybe the fact that when i went to see lecturers at the end of term, i realized i had nothing to say. maybe the fact i'm emailing in tiny paragraphs, and sitting up until 6am wishing i had someone to talk to, which is a little silly when you think about it.

at least my days have structure at the moment, i'm covering everyone's shifts this weekend on account of the isle of wight festival and download. i've got an empty house to ponder and potter in. i'm getting laundry done and eating 5-a-day and then some. i'm cooking, i'm preparing material for a gig compering my friend's burlesque night. i'm taking my makeup off before i go to bed.

there's still bad habits i can't shake. i still wake up in beds that aren't mine, i still use teacups as ashtrays, i still spill coffee all over my floor, i still can't resist the offer of beer post-work, and i still can't keep my head in the face of right wing misogynist pub banter. i run my tongue over the back of my cracked fake tooth all day and think about how i'd be a better person if i didn't do any of these things, but, i still never stop.

i want my body back to normal. i want to stop staying up all night having to throw up every twenty minutes, and then sleeping all day waking up shivering and feverish. i want to not disappoint my family. i want to remember to do my washing up. most of all i want to get back to being able to listen to what i want, and be able to communicate it effectively.

so it's been a while since i've said anything, i guess. i've spent a lot of time drunk, trying to ignore the things i don't want to have to face up to. it's nice sometimes just to sit outside, crisping in the sun, pretending that real life isn't waiting, complicated and poised, inside.

i've been sporadically sleeping with my ex. i got a first in my dissertation. my grandfather from new zealand came to visit, and i've not seen him since i was 5, and it was like meeting a stranger, only weirder.

i keep railing against the people i love because they're the only ones who come back.

i'm reading the famished road by ben okri. it's good. i can never seem to get myself reading more then 20 pages a day. snail's pace.

i'm not sure what else to say, i just thought breaking the silence might be a good idea.

so i'm now frenziedly working on my penultimate undergrad essay (a day before deadline, some things never change). i couldn't sleep last night so i spewed out 1500 words of it, even after researching all day. normally i don't use my insomnia time in activity. i mean, it is frustrating lying there, eyes closed/open/closed/open, feeling like you might never sleep again; but i've found that if i sit up reading, working, eating, smoking, instead, i truly fuck up my sleeping pattern for months. i'm slowly learning ways of working with the things my body and mind do to sabotage me.

sat there chewing cereal and drinking in carver this morning to try and wake my brain up (got a morning short story habit i can't shake. is this how pensioners feel about crosswords or trisha?) and i thought to myself about whether i'd still be doing this in twenty years. about where the hell i reckoned i'd be. about whether i'd still have the luxury of waking up alone, staring at the window til it comes into focus, discreetly satisfying my already brutal smokers cough in privacy, slugging coffee and mustering up the energy to shower.

i did something i shouldn't have done on sunday. woke up where i shouldn't have on monday. it was good, i can't be dishonest, but on waking i felt like a trapped animal. realized how deeply attached i am to forming new solitary habits; remembered i don't do revisitation as neatly as other people. nostalgia is nice and all, but i'm pretty sick of having to be responsible and take other people's feelings into account. note to self: be more sensible in the future. looking after number one is task enough. it was nice to hear i'm looking a lot less smashed-to-pieces than i did at the beginning of term, mind. i was beginning to feel like i was.

mark is covering me at work tonight so hopefully i ought, today, to be able to pound out the rest of this essay before midnight, reference and then maybe sleep. my boss jim's wife, a psychiatric nurse, recommended hayfever medication as a sleeping aid. i'm trying it, and so far, no good, but i will try anything rather than go on proper sleeping medication again. i've even cut out afternoon caffeine; i'm drinking herbal tea for fuck's sake. i must be serious.

reading, properly reading again, is slowly bringing me back to myself. i've spent a lot of time lately thinking i'm stupid and purposeless. sitting down with endless books and journals had made me remember what i want from life, where i intend to be, what i'm good at. i have to say though, i'm really itching for someone to bounce off at the moment.

i've been writing in my journal for an hour a day without even thinking about it. it's fully crazy.

so last night i had a night in. by myself. sober. i know, huh?

did i do anything useful like tidy my tip of a room or read some stuff for the two impending essays? no i didn't. instead i favoured eating as much junk food as i could get my hands on, and watching beavis and butthead do america and elf. do not judge me. it's hard to overthink everything constantly, every brain needs a switch off. hannah came home with cigarettes, diet coke, and fried chicken, and we got into bed together and gossiped.

there's so much going on right now i can't really think. i had to let grace down for for hms pinup doors today, which makes me feel like shit, but i promised a friend in a bind that i'd help them with their photoshoot. me, a model? ha ha ha, right? but if they think i'm right for it, well, it's their damn photoshoot, i'm not going to argue with them. i seem to be trying my hand at all sorts these days. and it means i can catch the tail end of my friends beach barbecue, which i thought i was going to miss.

i am so looking forward to being able to pick and choose what i read come the end of these two essays it's unreal. looking forward to it so much that i can't even decide what to read first, in fact. i've got feedback to pick up tomorrow. scary. my dad is talking about graduation to me on the phone now, crazy. and on the 26th he's bringing my grandad down to visit, as he's over from new zealand. i spoke to him for the first time since i was tiny this christmas, on the phone. it's so surreal to me that i am related fairly closely to someone i've pretty much never met. i wonder what he's like? i wonder what he thinks i'm like? i get the feeling he'll be maybe pretty disappointed. i mean, i know my dad's proud of me, to think otherwise would be silly, so he's probably told my grandad about my grades and stuff, but i do wonder what he'll make of me in my chainsmoking, half shaved head glory? it's not exactly the stuff grandparent's dreams are made of. and i've no idea what my nz cousins are like so i've no yardstick to measure by.

anyway i suppose really i better have a shower, obsess and get angsty about my appearance before camera exposure, then make some potato salad and prawn skewers to take to this beach party. coastal living rules.

trying to surround myself with good vibes, things that make me feel better. trying to escape the gut-gnawing inexplicable fear i'm suffering from. sometimes it works. sometimes it doesn't.

registry on tuesday with mark. i only went because for some reason, sitting in my room alone made me furious. i painted my nails violent barbie doll fuschia, put on my most ridiculous tie dye leggings and scowled my way down the road until i got there. drank like a man with no arms until i felt away from myself, until i got out of myself. then i ended up settling into quite a nice pattern of conversations with a stellarly good looking aussie boy (am still bang into foreign stock), awfully moreish sour blackcurrant shots, ridiculous jokes about the ghostbusters theme tune, lather, rinse and repeat. woke up next to an empty pizza box the next morning wondering how the fuck i got home, with a new australian entry in my phonebook and a promisingly full inbox. thoughts on waking up: 'oh god...oh....wait......man i'm good.'

wednesday: breakfast date with krista and her mum. so so good. hadn't seen krista in ages (seems to be increasingly the norm these days) and seeing her bought me that usual feeling of relief. we chatted over hangover curing welsh rarebit with bacon and black filter coffee and freshly squeezed orange in lou-lou's, then trawled the shops trying to help lesley anne (krista's mum) find a wedding outfit. in the end, no joy, but i picked up a pair of wet look black leggings that make my legs look laminated, plus new perfume. we talked about sexuality, how it is now and how it is then, about money and student's approaches to it, about my mum, about housemates, about everything. we sat on the common drinking berry smoothies, catching the sun, being ridiculous. krista and i had coffee and smokes in my garden after lesley anne left, promised each other we'd hang out and drink on her next day off.

work was a bit of a nightmare. was still hungover, wasn't in the mood for a very drunk nigel. french boy who shall not be mine was there, and he asked if i was ok. what am i meant to say to that. i mumbled something about overreacting and shook my head, closed my eyes, ended conversation. it was absolutely ridiculous. we still talked a fair amount, still play-fought, still acted like fuck all that has actually happened did happen. it's a good job i'm skilled at writing men off totally when they reject me, or i'd have considered my feelings well and truly messed around with.

i still didn't get to sleep until 6am. fuck's sake.

and now i'm off for lunch at the fat fox and maybe a pint but shussssh no telling because i have work this evening.

tears about a boy, in front of said boy, are not good. i sometimes feel like the pressure builds up inside me and when something kinda minor like being rejected by a boy, of all stupid shitty little everyday things, happens, a crack appears and i just cry for everything bad that ever happened. it's easier that way. it gives it a name and a shape.

so i've been so drunk, so often lately that the first time i stood up today i thought i was going to faint. it's sunny outside but i'm still sat here with the curtains drawn in a tiny room covered in beer bottles and fag packets. i don't actually care. i graduate soon (provided i didn't fuck everything up royally) and i am freaking out. two stupid essays with uninspiring questions are like, all i have left of university. so what am i doing? drinking heavily, oversleeping, living off things i don't have to cook unless i invite people over to make the effort worth it. oh, and painting my nails to keep me on what i shakily call 'the straight and narrow'.

everytime i go out for bread, or milk, i buy vintage clothes.

too many people on my course lately have likened me to marla singer from fight club. stupid syllabus. stupid accurate descriptions. i only ever get told i look like women who've effectively disembowelled themselves, rubbing their flaws obnoxiously in everybody's face and never, ever, brushing their hair.

reading about the sri lankan civil war, about men nailed to the road through their palms, does not put everything in perspective. i keep thinking about baudrillard and ballard. i keep feeling more and more mute and dead.

i have no idea what i'm going to do with the summer. it's stretched out ahead of me like some kind of frozen lake, i can't even begin to make a ripple in it.

how the fuck do i live the way i do? my therapist told me to be wary of terms like 'healthy', that everyone's life is their own, we can't live on other people's terms, it doesn't matter who they are. but it's quite obvious that the way i live is not healthy. i'm amazed i've staggered through 21 years already.

my lecture on short cuts today really nearly tore me to bits. but i guess that's always going to be the way with books that deal with dead end lives, addiction, adultery, survival nonetheless. that's going to tear damn near everybody to bits, thinking about that.

last night i sat down at the end of my shift, for a minute, took the weight off my feet while i waited for everyone to fuck off. stone cold sober had a conversation with nigel, one of our regulars; a pretty friendly, happy, nonetheless needy and slightly inappropriate alchoholic. he was ranting about his son (stuart; a builder) having a girlfriend who he hated. i asked why, expecting a silly little reason, the kind family give when you go out with someone interesting, and he said 'she killed my little grandbaby'. my eyes widened and my eyebrows raised, i managed a sort of 'hunh?'. it transpires that nigel hates her because she had a first term abortion, giving the reason that her and stuart could not afford a baby. as he put it, 'for business reasons'. i didn't say anything. i pretended i'd noticed a smear on the bar and vigourously polished it with a blue sharp's brewery towel. you can't really say anything to old people, they don't want to, or need to hear it. they have to be able to pretend they've definitive lines of right and wrong in a world they're rapidly ceasing to understand. you, young and political, frustrated and angry, have to let them believe things. that's your small mercy.

regardless, i walked home from work, aching and paining and mulling over in my head the times i let inappropriate comments about my body, my hair, my mannerisms slide, at work. i have to, i tell myself. we're in a recession, i need this job to be able to afford to study, what does it matter if in some small turquoise painted corner of portsmouth a clutch of beer-sodden old men mumble over me like i'm a commodity? people have been doing it for years, more bravely than i do. even murakami wrote about a hegel-spouting philosophy student prostitute. you just have to hope that the olds' beliefs will die along with them.

i got to thinking this morning about an article i read about how sex on the first date is not selling out, unless you truly regard yourself as that 2-dimensional that sex is all you have to offer. i thought about the amount of belts i've unbuckled, zips undone, and i wondered; 'am i just trying to make myself feel better?'.

sometimes i stand in front of the mirror, endlessly weighing and measuring. i lost count of my stretchmarks years ago. i have no body hair. i am just slightly too thick round the middle. my calf muscles and biceps are oddly developed and defined. i have endless freckles and moles. my tits sag too much for a 21 year old. my skin is usually congested. i have big eyes, but they're deep set. my knees are scarred from bruises. my arms and legs bear former self harm scars. i start to see the veins under my too-white skin, i start to think that what i see in the mirror is the fact of what i am. i can't help it. i'm 21 and i'm confused.

when i walked through the library today i stopped and talked to he who i'm pursuing. i worry that my doc martens make my legs look bulky. i push back the rain wisped frizz out of my eyes and wonder if he's evaluating my smeared makeup, ripped tights, bruised arm. i wonder if things might be easier were i more doll-like, if i'd learned my rules of behaviour better, if i didn't have nicotine stained fingers and frown lines. i participate in the kind of magazine based judgement i should know better than. i turn the world polished over and over in my mind. i remember the conversation with henry five minutes or less ago about the 1950's good housewife guide. i duck out and leave when someone comes to ask him about connecting to the network.

coming to conclusions isn't my strong point. i'm an ideas person. i strong them together like so many beads, and let them trail through my fingers while i think. i drop them and think about something else before long. it doesn't matter, i'm one voice on an overpopulated planet. a conclusion would be like shouting into a well and expecting a reply. like the scenes in a passage to india, in the marabar caves, where mrs. moore becomes sick and depressed for the rest of the book after realizing that every single sound made is reduced to exactly the same 'ou-boum' echoing sound. even what she or anyone else regards as the most ultimate truths about humanity (they still wrote about those things then) will only equate to 'ou-boum' in that space.

coming to this morning in the sunlight, swiping my eyes, caking my fingertips in last nights purple and black powder, my head was swimming with gratitude. it's been a really long time since i woke up and thought 'what an amazing night'. i haven't danced so much, laughed so much, felt so much in a long time. paloma showed, which was brilliant; i always feel like she and i have totally on-the-level conversations, and she's as tuned in to the 'no, i'm just here to dance' mentality as i am.
was good to bond more properly with jamie as well. it's nice to know i've got good friends around me almost wherever i turn these days.
but in a nutshell, i got astronomically drunk, the music was amazing, i saw some old faces, and i rocked dip dyed stilettos and sequinned hotpants like nobody's business. when i was walking to jamie's house and turning heads all down the albert road i swear, lee's comment about me dressing like barbarella popped into my head and walked with my head just a little higher, my lopsided taking-it-in-my-stride grin a little wider.
i hadn't been out to a decent electro night in ages; sure, the odd brief stint at little johnny russell's for some non-event, but it's been ages since i went out primarily for the music. it's difficult i guess, since most of my social circle is people from work these days, and they all listen to more typically alternative stuff like punk and metal, so being in the minority i tend to go where they go, drink, and hang out. so it was purely amazing to be going to a night of my music, with people who were into it (we're a rare breed these days it'd seem) and just having a good time.
today i have so much shit i planned to do. loose ends to tie, things like that. i don't think i'll do any of it to be honest. just relax and pamper myself before work, i reckon. i am feeling so good. i wish i could bottle up times like this and store them for when i feel like crap.

also, i'm rediscovering ed rec. vol III in all it's glory. brings back all the good times of last summer, f'real.

so i'm cooking again. it's mostly an effort to try and keep myself grounded rather than getting all excited about my dissertation being handed in and having money to spend on booze and so on and so forth. i'm trying to keep myself busy, too; it's weird having free time again. i didn't realize how many hours a day i blocked off to write in. i've been mostly moping around the house wrapped in a blanket complaining about being bored since.

so this is a nigella lawson recipe, i picked it out of delicious magazine and can't remember which of her cookbooks i've spotted it in before, but it doesn't really matter i guess, since i have them all now and use them probably the most out of my cookbooks.

so anyways:

keralan fish curry

serves 4-6. prep time: 15 mins. cooking time: 15 mins.

ingredients:

1.25kg firm white fish such as monkfish and haddock
2 tsp ground turmeric
1 tbsp vegetable oil
2 medium onions, halved and cut into fine half moons
2 long red chillies
4cm piece fresh ginger
pinch of ground cumin
400ml can coconut milk
1-2 tbsp concentrated tamarind
1 tbsp liquid fish stock concentrate

1. cut the fish into bite-size chunks, put into a large bowl, rub with a little salt and turmeric and set aside. heat the oil in a large shallow pan, and tips in the onions; sprinkle with a little salt, then cook, stirring, until softened.

2. cut the chillies into thin slices (although, you can deseed them) then toss into the pan of onions. peel and slice the ginger, then cut into straw-like strips and add them, too, along with the remaining spices. fry with the onions for a few minutes.

3. pour the cocunut milk into a measuring jug, add 1tbsp tamarind paste and the fish stock and, using boiling water from the kettle, bring the liquid up to the litre mark. pour into the pan. stir, taste, and add soome more tamarind if you want to.

4. when you're ready to eat, add the fish to the hot sauce and heat for a few minutes until it's cooked through but tender.

lemon rice

1 tbsp vegetable oil
250g basmati rice
1/2 tsp ground turmeric
1/2 tsp dried mint
juice and zest of 1 lemon
1/2 tsp salt
1 tbsp black mustard seeds.

1. choose a pan with a close fitting lid, and heat the oil gently before adding the rice. stir to coat in the oil and stir in the turmeric and mint. squeeze in the lemon juice and add 500ml water so that it covers the rice by a few centirmetres. stir in the salt, put the lid on, bring to the boil, then reduce to a simmer and cook gently until all the water has been absorbed. this should take about 15 minutes.

2. toast the mustard seeds in a dry frying pan. sprinkle the rice with the mustard seeds and lemon zest to serve.

so let's quickly run down the alterations i made: i did not use 1.25 kg of fish. show me a student who can afford to buy that much fish in one bash and i'll show you a reckless, overspending fool. i used maybe 500g haddock and bulked the rest out with a sweet red pepper and a couple of charlotte potatoes that needed using up, chopped nice and fine. i was particularly impressed with the contrast between the pepper and the tangy, savoury sauce and rice. also i used veggie stock rather than fish stock: i never have fish stock in the house, weirdly, so i kind of just sub for veggie or chicken depending on what it is i'm making, and never really notice anything amiss.
i think i would maybe make this again; it seems like a nicer hot-day option than the usual goan red fish curry i make. it's a bit milder, so you don't feel overheated eating it in the sunshine, whereas the goan red is more of a winter warmer type thing, i think. i would maybe grate the ginger though, as i really like ginger but didn't fancy eating solid sticks of it; and i felt i missed out on the taste i might've gotten if i'd grated it.
as for the lemon rice, i will most definitely be making that again. it may just become my go-to rice recipe when i make curry, as plain rice is boring, and when i make my usual boiled rice with a pinch of turmeric and some coriander forked through at the end, i always burn some to the bottom due to my insanely short attention span. this turned out perfectly despite my usual forgetfulness, and i have to say it looks a lot more impressive than ordinary rice (you know how it is).

so yeah, another successful bout of cooking. the weather here seems to have taken a turn for the worse and gotten a bit showery so i figured tomorrow i might make some potato and parmesan soup, warm myself up a little. and i've seen a recipe for polenta and roasted veg bake i want to try as i've a lot of polenta in my cupboard and i usually find it pretty dire, but i don't really want to waste it so i'm looking for ways to liven it up a little. i might make that on friday and invite some people round (maybe even he who i'm pursuing; he's been absent from proceedings lately and a boy-shaped pick-me-up is in order). my mum's coming down at the weekend so i may get a chance to experiment with more meat-based ideas. as for now i think i'll hop into bed, maybe do some reading, try and get some beauty sleep before tomorrow's big night out.

so i'm finally starting to feel like i'm achieving things again. i've come to understand i'm a person who freaks out when things get static. when i can't move, i panic and fly in the face of everything i'm supposed to be dealing with. but now i've sorted my dissertation, my living situation for this year, my total fucking mess of a room, my masters shit, the lot. my biggest worries tonight are whether the fish is defrosting quickly enough for me to whip up some keralan fish curry, and what to wear to the pub (i shopped a lot yesterday, not to mention also getting my hair reshaved).
i plan to have a weekend of reading, cooking, laundry, and comedy club visitation. then next week it's back to work, for final essays to push my grade up (and dj hype and herve at liquid, with my adopted little brother; exciting)

what does everyone plan to be reading/watching/listening to this summer? it's been such a long time since i could choose my media that i've forgotten how to, i think.

"only when i come to the surface
is my life safe...

blessed be the scaffolding deep down in the shaft
blessed be the life wheel on the mine's pit head
blessed be the chain attached to the life wheel..."

michael ondaatje, anil's ghost, miner's folk song, sri lanka.

and though i'm still explaining "the flowers" to everyone, this is for you: mum, dad, educational life support (in every form), and r.i.p nan (i'm still not over you, i shan't ever be, sorry you never saw it; gambler as you were)



verbatim

so i'm working on my dissertation again.. i read it aloud to mum at the weekend to see where my sentences stumble and falter, but i came away feeling superbly confident. i mean, it's weird, i've always gotten frustrated at reading my shit to non-academics or people who aren't familiar with the literature and theories, but i've realized now that my mum may just be my biggest ally in my dissertation writing these days. the thing is, my essays let me down a lot of the time because i write from a 'big picture' perspective. i mean, i sit there and write my arguments, but i'll have assumed in several places in it, that the examiner or marker already knows what i mean. i've not been very specific. now i'm realizing more and more the need for precision that i've previously lacked. so basically i'd sat there and read it to mum chapter by chapter, corrected myself in several places, had discussions with her on any ambiguities so that i could get things more clear in my head, and now i feel much more confident.

today i've raced through my usual hour's worth of notes/corrections, things to include, so i'm going to try and clear some more, by writing a new list. if i can do double work today i won't feel so guilty about the slacking i did this weekend. i cooked an easter dinner for mum, just a sausage and potato bake (these kind of things are so easy that whenever mum picks out a recipe for me to follow i double take) and my now-famous chocolate mousse (nigella express's instant chocolate mousse. i'll post it at some point) which i have been living off. rest of the day was spent drinking too many beer-garden ciders and a whole lot of morgan's spiced, followed by my mum giving out easter chocolate chickens to my coworkers.

sunday i reade elle magazine in bed, then worked the doors at hms pinup (it was cabaret themed, YESSSS) and i was bowled (haha bad pun sorry) over by mister mistress, a gender bending burlesque dancer who was more elegant than i could be if i mustered up pretty much every ounce of conditioned femininity in my bones. his version of money makes the world go round was amazing. i consider myself pretty lucky that i get to work the doors and see the show every month-it's not something i'd have sought out myself, but it's so interesting and different, and being surrounded by beautiful women (and men) in amazing vintage clothes and glitter and makeup is amazing.

went out afterwards, to route with ben, and had a few beers. had planned to go back and drink with everyone for tim's birthday, but i was really tired for no apparent reason so i came home, had a rum-spiked hot chocolate and slept myself a flat, dead, dreamless sleep. the kind i haven't had in weeks. i'm still not entirely certain that tim is okay with me and ben being friends, i mean i'd like to talk to him about it, but i never really get the opportunity to. he's never out anymore. it's a shame. i would like to properly know if he's okay with it, i've never been one to be okay with the idea that something i'm doing is hurting somebody, i'd feel like shit if that was the case.

this week is busybusybusy. dissertation frenzy today, tomorrow, and wednesday for sure. hopefully in the day on thursday and friday. working wednesday and thursday night, and i hear the windsor boys might be down so probably drinks afterwards. then on friday, russell brand at the o2 with pete. wowsers. i'll be hitting the caffeine hard, for sure.

so another day of extended study. i got a shit ton done yesterday on a wild sheep chase and it made me feel really good. work was so dead (bloody holidays, bloody students who have relaxing homes and stable family environments to return to) that i managed to get a chunk of research done, which made me feel even better. i'm working with mark for the first time in ages tomorrow and friday, cos alex and rosie are going to london to see sisters of mercy. the former teen goth in me is a touch jealous.
last night rosie told me she read a large chunk of this the other day, and i had my usual surprised reaction. i'm always amazed when someone from my real life wants to read this; i guess i figure if they know me they mightn't find me interesting enough to want to read about my day-to-day. i'm always reminded of when keri smith posted on her blog about a guy from her city who'd emailed her saying 'i come from your city, and i've never seen any of this stuff you write about' and she just responded with 'well it's there, if you look.'. cos i don't know, my point of view is always going to be a little different to what other people see.
i can't believe it's nearly the end of week one of the easter holidays already. that feels insane to me. i mean, i have so much planned for next week that i really need to have this dissertation pretty much finished by the end of this one. which is fine, i'm pretty sure i can do it, but still, it's putting the squeeze on a bit. and at the moment i'm missing having the free time in the day to just mess around and make a cake, or you know, watch a film, read a short story, that kind of thing. all of us in the house keep talking about 'when it's in', like we've put off living until this bound, referenced, time-vortex is out of the way. i make it sound like a chore. i mean, it's hardly difficult living, is it, having to write your academic opinion on a subject of your choice, but i've always been like this around deadline time. chomping at the bit, wanting to do something, anything else. i remember it mostly from my a level days, when rather than work on my history coursework (before uni my finest piece of writing, fact) i knit myself about four cardigans.
which reminds me, as soon as this dissertation is in i gotta work on knitting some stuff for jim and nic's baby-on-the-way. they were going to find out if it was a boy or a girl, the other day at the hospital, and it kept it's legs crossed for the duration. i don't know what i believe about in-utero will, but i find that interesting nonetheless. i keep thinking about what a great dad jim will make. i was talking about it with ben the other day when we were drunk enough to talk about such things (you know what i mean, we're english, we have to glug down a few beers before we can say anything emotional); and i talked about how supportive and empathic jim has been as my manager since i started working at the deco and the shit hit the fan with roy, and how you can tell with a man like that that as a father they'll be able to apply that same 'i've been there' ethos to child raising.
not that it's necessarily fundamental. i'd be willing to wager i had a more traumatic adolescence than my parents as far as you can put a measure on these things, but i feel they did their best and having grown up into a fairly insightful, self aware adult, i don't feel i was cheated out of anything in terms of being raised. granted, my family relationships aren't normal, by any stretch, but they function, and you know, that is enough. more than enough.
anyway, if i want to be able to participate in any of my plans next week, i suppose i ought, really, to get working today, or else i'll get nothing done.

am feeling suitably smug after an hour's research upon waking up, a 1000 word spurt on the dissertation, then a lunch of homemade leek and potato soup followed by homemade rhubarb compote and greek yoghurt (don't worry, i won't be recipe spamming this week, i've been making both so long i get the instructions from my bones, and the only other thing i'll be cooking this week is a rerun of the udon in ginger miso broth). am just having a leisureley coffee and smoke before i plough back on with things.
i spent yesterday stream-writing in my journal for an hour to try and sort myself out, and it does pay off. i've not been writing very frequently lately, and somehow i feel like it has taken it's toll. my thoughts have been scrambled but i've straightened them out. anita was right, i do have quite a lot of capability and coping mechanisms stored up inside me, i just sometimes have to tune out and reach inside myself for them. it felt strange being told i was my main source of strength like it was a positive thing, having spent so many dark nights knees-to-chest, smoking and dead-eyed; thinking 'i've got nobody to rely on'. looking at it in a different way makes it feel more positive. i don't mean for this to become a yes, i am my main source of strength, yes, i am a powerful woman, yes, i am blossoming, type thing. i'm just proud of myself for finally recognizing and taking responsibility of what is in my control.
and i feel a little less claustrophobic knowing that this dissertation may be in my power after all. i just need to calibrate my working methods to my non linear method of thought, same way i do with essays. it's so simple. an hours brainstorming before i write per day, then write, then do extra research. and no i don't have to do the chapters in order. why didn't i think of this before? why does my brain not make common-sense links the way uit does theory ones?
nothing else really to say other than i have three shifts at work this week (extra money. result) plus am working doors at hms pinup (again, extra money, result) and am seeing mum on saturday. i feel a little like i've needed parental crutches this year but there's nothing i can do about that. i'd better get back to work; capitalize on this productivity while i'm still feeling in control of it.

i feel sick today. need to lay off the cheap beer and excessive caffeine. am hoping a bowl of home made leek and potato soup might calm me down (dad swung by this weekend, and bizarrely, uncharacteristically, took me to the supermarket to stock up).

i have begun the editing process of my dissertation and for two hours i have sat staring at chapter one wanting to print it out just so i can tear it into tiny pieces and spit on it. i always overthink these things, sat in my nest of rumpled satin sheets and scribbled on paper and ashtrays and diet coke cans. yesterday my old landlord came round to take his dishwasher back, and after weighing up the odds, we decided i was best disposed to help him move it, with my concealed upper body strength from former secondary school shotput success, flinging boxes in stockrooms, moving crates and barrels. he asked me what i am doing my dissertation on and i said 'post war japanese identity in literature' and he said 'oh like murakami and stuff?' and i went 'yeah that's who i'm squaring in on' and we talked about how the wind up bird chronicle is his best book and whether the skinning scene in that, or the cat killing scene in kafka on the shore is the best example of murakami's showing the inherent capacity for violence in society. and it was nice. he said i should go see his jazz band play at drift and he'd buy me a few drinks, and i almost did. but i had no one to go with. he was apparently a lecturer in marine biology here, and he's nice, i don't know why my housemates hate him so much.

his french accent made me feel lightheaded thinking about what i did at the weekend, reminded me of another one. i thought about hands (bigger than mine) on the small of my back, resting my flushed little cheek on collarbone and muscle and looking up through lowered lashes, and giggling while being taught to pronounce jean paul sartre authentically, and baring totally my fear of looking stupid when learning something publicly. i think my text message faux pas may have led to good things. two weeks and he'll be back from across the channel, i'll cook something that looks like i haven't tried at all and feign a casual attitude and we'll see, shall we? in the meantime it gives me something to smile about while i'm practicing pedantry over my own words.

i can't wait until this dissertation is out of my life, seriously. i hate having long amounts of time to dwell on what i'm writing, i always have done. if i can just whack something out then distance myself from it i feel much less panicked about it. it doesn't give me any time to read things over and let my unrealistically critical nature impact my thinking. the more i look at my dissertation, the more i think it's going to let me down.

my dad was talking about graduation. having both him and mum there is going to be so surreal. if it weren't for my family there's no way in hell i'd go to that ceremony. but i remember how i burst with pride at mum's; brimming with admiration that she'd sat there and earned something that was only hers, a private and personal achievement, that she would never have to share (because sharing is so much of a mother and wife-two-times-over's life). i owe it to her to let her feel that for me. it'll be different, because it'll be an affirmation of parenting skills, but it'll be similar, i guess.

i feel like i still have other things to write about but i can't quite get at them. i haven't been doing my usual freewheeling through my moleskine, writing ribbons of subconsciously linked opinion, for a while, so my thoughts aren't ordered, neat, filed, at the moment. my head's a mess of recipe ideas, scraps on the fantastic in modern japanese literature, nicotine cravings, chore lists, the god of small things, globalization discussions with dad, thoughts of the french boy and whether i may for the first time in a while be in a scenario where i'm the one who likes the most, that kind of thing.