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Jan. 22nd, 2008

(no subject)

Day by Day by Day.
Henry James, and F Scott G were okay.
Better than Okay actually. I may not have got as much supporting texts in the first question, but I fucking well tried and I brought up some really awesome points. I wasn't as strong as I'd entailed for Gatsby. But you never are when you're passionate about things, you forget all the amazing things you concocted the hour before.
However. I failed CRM. The feedback was as follows 'I don't think that you should be looking into these career aspects as you've obviously found a flair for writing that has unfortunately got you in a spot of bother with our markers. Your depth of satire and humour would win you marks in essays but unfortunately lets you down.' Then, off the record, I was told that they had to argue about this paper, and then resolved to fail me plainly on the fact I did not answer the questions in the rigid fashion that they asked. That she would have passed it had there not been some concerns about the way they wanted me to answer it. I don't understand it. I have to answer how they want? How the fuck does that make this is a survey of my needs? Grr.
A high point to the last two days though was that Bran and Mark, who I had consulted about my literature column previously, both spurred me on to write it. I then sent them a copy of the finished work and they congratulated me on my thought provoking and interesting piece. Maybe I should be a writer, I can't deal with the formalities that University seems to be offering me at the Moment. I'm becoming disillusioned with so much, from my essays to my exams to the attitudes I'm having in general. I'm just convinced if I dont stop, and I just work and work and work I wont have to think about this.

I've decided to see the doctor again about medication. I think I need it now. I'm not coping. I'm not finding things to cope that work. I'm lonely. And sad. And doubting my intelligence and what I'm really doing with my life. I don't know how to answer all the questions life is throwing at me. Or anyone for that matter. I just want to cry at the moment. I'm handling people less and less these days.

Jan. 20th, 2008

(no subject)

(I'm not coping. Not even a little bit.)

Dec. 21st, 2007

One night only! One of a kind!

I know now that I have to change jobs. I know this since I started utterly hating working there, everytime I get there this deep paranoia bubbles up inside of me like a boiling pot and scorches me where everybody can see. It's not the customers, in fact, its very rarely the customers, it's the people I'm working with. I'm told I'm over-reacting 'like I always do', I'm told not to take it so seriously, I'm told to buck up my ideas, I'm told that I am not enough, that I am useless and needed, but not needed. I give up. There was a time where I really loved that job to death, but it's all been destroyed. There are a few elements that have contributed but they are too stupid to say in broad daylight because it means I have to actually look at them. Maybe I should start looking for a new job, where I can start again.

The big sadness is coming. I know because I want to change my hair and appearance again, because, obviously, that is the most sensible thing to do because it just seems like one of my quirks rather than a coping mechanism.

I started writing again. It hit me on the way home so hard that I had to stop where I was standing and start writing it down. This is when I know the Big Sadness is coming. I wonder what will happen this time.

Country-side chic.

'You're being normal today'
'Well, not particularly'
'Well You're being rather sedated.'
'Yes, Sedated'

Oh, and I am utterly falling back in love with a man. Haruki Murakami's 'Dance Dance Dance'. I'd give half my heart away to talk to him about his work. 'Norwegian Wood'. Oh My. First Love.

Dec. 10th, 2007

Here I am, dancing alone to songs from the past

I wish there was some way to talk that made sense to people. Anything that is said now seems to interpreted as something utterly different. I hate this. I'm annoyed at my LEA for taking so fucking long to tell me that I need to add more forms and crap. I'm fed up at this house situation. I'm just not going to talk to anyone because it just annoys everyone or comes across as something completely futile. I'm so fucking confused about so many things that it's just one big stupid muddle between my ears. I just want to cry and hit the people who really are fucking me off right now.

Things to remember/Do.

* Accept that some people regard others as a novelty.
* LEA's are retarded.
* Sometimes not talking is the best thing ever
* Living in a fantasy world has its plus points.
* Drugs are bad kids.
* Liking someone is rubbish.
* Not freak out if I find out my essays were shit.
* There's always someone cooler than you.

Oh, and

* Try and find a way out of bed tommorow morning.

Dec. 9th, 2007

Not one more word tonight, between here and then

Oh Dear. Oh Deary Deary Me.

Why have I slept only four hours since Friday morning? Because I'm an idiot who finds it easier to forget, and hope, than sit at home feeding my thoughts and Breeding Reminiscence. When perhaps really I should.

I want to write more but I really can't at the moment.

Dec. 6th, 2007

she comes apart, in the avalanche

I had a dream last night about being locked in my tiny study and not released until I wrote my Magnum Opus, and I couldnt so I was finding ways of burrowing out. Maybe this is my brain telling me that I shouldnt force myself to write if I physically cant. Well, mentally can't. There's this big blockade of riot proportions wedged under my skull. Talking of riots and blockades, I've found something to write about in regards to news, the student riots in France. I've been phoning people asking for comments, getting mildly exciting emails about the issue. Generally feeling I have a bit more of a purpose. Read it y'all.

I hate it when you don't want to talk, just want to sit in silence but people are making you talk. Its been like this all day...Perhaps I'm just being really stupid and should just shut up and get on with it. And actually go out. And 'meet people' ha ha. I love that it's such a novelty for me when all I really would like is it all to come in the post tomorrow morning. Money, Extremely hot girlfriend, Anti-cortisol or whatever is the equivalent. I fucking wish I was Faustus sometimes, but then I realise that I might actually need my soul at some point. I don't like the idea of that shifty Mephistopheles character hanging around all the time.

I better stop moaning. I am actually working on something half decent at the moment. It's a lot longer, Each section is kind of like a new entry, slightly differing in format. I guess it's closer to Whitmans' Song of myself rather than anything else. Ergh, that puts me off writing it now. I hate comparing myself to anyone.

Oh by the way,
Hello :)

Dec. 5th, 2007

(no subject)

I actually forgot to really comment on this earlier. It kinda made me laugh at bit because I am happy I'm the estranged one in most respects, what with the utter freedom thing and not the 'Let's play happy families' thing. Also known as, having to pretend to be straight, marrying some french guy and having loads of kids, forgetting about every aspiration EVER, forgetting about what it's like to be english although in fact I AM. I guess I still don't have the 'growing older and actually getting on with parents' thing. I don't see it happening if they cut me out. I was laughing at the thought that they have possibly cut out my face and replaced it with pictures of Shirley fucking Temple or something. People said I used to look like her. Now I probably look more like her father. Lol.

I need to talk to more people in my classes.

Oh sweet nuthin'

For the first time in ages I feel like actually writing in my paper diary tonight. I havent for a while, not any particular explanation, I just havent been able to. It's a bit of a block I guess. I now feel that I have things to actually say now, things I need to debate and scrutinise away from the eyes of everything else. It's strange. I miss writing in my diary, it was such a key thing for such a long time. I think its cos I havent had much of a chance to be really alone, and uninterrupted.

I'm feeling lonely in a way that can't be filled through friends or doing things, its that intimate kind that I know I wont be able to grasp just yet because It's not that easy. I can watch a lot of my friends fret about the guy they are sleeping with, flirt the night away with whomever they lay eyes on, and I know that I can't do that. But at the same time I feel I'm in some secret society that they'll never know how it feels to be part of. If it takes a long time to whittle out how it works then it takes a long time. If it comes, it comes.

You don't need to change a thing.

Dec. 3rd, 2007

nowhere to run now baby, nowhere to hide.

It's still there. Woo-fucking-hoo. I didn't get out of bed until 4.30pm, not because of the copious amount of marijuana that I smoked last night, but because I just didnt have a reason too. Our house turned into the same little bubble that it did a while ago, where everyone is a slightly different person, they get whittled into a different form of themselves. I don't want to talk about what I was made into, and for once it wasnt by me.

There seems to be something against privacy. One look at me writing this and it's like I'm writing their own death warrant. I don't want everyone to know everything about me, I like it better that way.

I'm just having a conversation about board games and social politics, specifically because we were playing scrabble last night, not properly to be fair. More spontaneous and colloquial. One of my friendship groups is like a board game, involving a lot of bluffing, teasing, politics, all about figuring out the right place to put yourself so you win. And when you want to pull out you feel you can't because the lure of the prize is so magnetic.

I'm chatting complete biscuits. I haven't seen daylight for 26 hours.

Dec. 1st, 2007

she never ever lost her head, even when she was giving head.

So I kept it down. I guess. This morning I woke up in that horrible half-consciousness that only the lonely get. I guess. Now I'm drinking once again after knowing that I have work in about 10 hours. I guess. Talking over girls with someone who idolises them as much as I do and gets all the parts that are important. I guess. I've spent today trying to be responsible at work, eating and then not, eating and then letting it sit in my stomach like a stubborn little stone at the bottom of a glass of acid. Ergh. Cigarettes substitute food too much nowadays. I wonder if they hold any nutritional value at all apart from the c word. I made someone bleed today because I threw his wallet at him for playing chas and dave, which never should have existed. Now I'm really in the mood for Johnny Cash. What a strange thought association.

I should stop 'talking biscuits'. After all. I seem to have an audience.

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