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Tuesday, October 21st, 2003
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2:44 pm - Urg..
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Uck, am ill. seems that RL is conspiring for reasons that are beyond my understnding to make my journal entries perpetually short...
Must go and sleep now...
current mood: sick
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| Sunday, October 19th, 2003
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2:42 pm - ARGH!
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OOOHHHH!, This is gonna be a short entry(again!) because , as I type, I'm actually preparing to shoot the computer.
Ya see, I write fanfiction (I've warned you flames will be mocked.) and I've had writers block for ages. Months and months. And finally today, I unblock. At least a little. Enough to write a reasonably short angst ditty of about 500 words that's pretty good. So there Am I, happily saving it to a floppy disc, so I could cart it all the way over campus to get to an internet conected PC so I could post my little jewel.
And what happens?
The disc isn't formatted.
Which means the computer won't read the disc, so I can't post.
But the computer now wants to format the disc, and won't let go of it.
And formatting the disc means that all the data on it will be wiped.
Including my fic
ARGH!
explain the title enough?
current mood: frustrated
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| Thursday, October 16th, 2003
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2:40 pm - So Tired...
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You know that old saying about a nun that gets let out of the convent and suddenly she's everyones favorite whore, simply because she's letting go of the repressed energy that has been bottled up for so long? I didn't out much stock in it, it has to be said.
Until yesterday.
Maybe I should give you a virtual introduction to one of my oldest friends.
Her name is Liz, She's about 5'6 with the reddest hair you'll ever see, and the fairest complextion and blue eyes to go along with it. She writes horror. I shouldn't really say writes - it's more she weaves. One of her stories left me unable to sleep for 3 days, and I can sit through Hannibal and The Blair Witch Project without flinching. We met at the age of about 7, when she was the new girl at my primary school, and my one stand out memory of my childhood is of her mother giving us the telling off of our younglives when she came home from work to find us covered in soil with a matching 3 foot hole in her back garden. Apparently, we'd planned to make a pond, and had a black plastic binsack all ready for a liner and everything.
Liz has always been very done to earth. Not one to float off in day dreams, never gets a crush on a celebrity, always did her work and got straight 'A's becausee of it. Her sense of humour was mostly based on sarcasm, and she didn't own a slingle item of clothing thjat was pink, fluffy or impractical. I had, admittedly, thought her Mother was a bit of a forbidding character, but never thought that actually had any effect on how Liz behaved.
I was wrong.
I knew I was wrong when she woke me with a phone call at 3am last night *cooing* down the line about a boy she'd met. According to her, they're in love. And she was stone cold sober.
Or rather she's in love with him, and he says he's in love with her, and she believes him.
Despite the fact that he has a girlfriend of 5 yrs that he's spending the weekend with in 2 days.
Despite the fact that he won't tell anyone about the fact that they spend half of everynight in each each other's rooms, let alone that they've exchanged 'I love you's.
Despite the fact that he's incredibly touchy-feely when they're alone, and he won't even acknowledge her in public.
Despite the fact that even she says he seems almost to good to be true.
And she wants me to meet him, and is taking none of above into consideration.
I think my old 'Hurt her and I'll castrate you with a youghrt pot, you sleazy bastard' routine might need dusting off and bulking out, don't you?
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| Tuesday, October 14th, 2003
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2:39 pm - Beginning (From AML)
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Weeeeell, I hadn't planned to update my journal this fast, but when I glanced at my watch and it told me it was only 8:30, I guess I had some time to kill, and quite frankly, couldn't be bothered to browse to find something else to do.
And before all those other students/nostalgic adults out there start screaming "You're at Uni!!! You should be going to the pub and getting shit-faced, that is your only point of existence currently!!!" I'll tell you why.
I don't drink.
Yers, alright, you can stop rubbing your eyes, a student has just admitted they do not imbibe alcohol (no, not even that delicate 1999 shiraz, ta very much) it's not that special.
Although I can tell you that that is exactly what the rest of my kitchen group will be currently doing. So I'll give it maybe half an hour to forty-five minutes, and then go home and laugh at them laughing at something completely inane, eat far too many chocolate chip cookies than is good for me, and squash myself into bed.
And I do mean squash. I've only been here a fortnight, and already posess a backache that will plague to my mid-forties and onwards. The room is tiny. If I really stretch (and in terms of physically size, I'm only average - God knows how my 6'4" next-room neighbour copes) I can touch all 4 walls a once. And the light in my pod is broken. A pod is a tiny bathroom - you've probably seen them on ships, the really pokey ones where you can go to the loo, brush your teeth and wash your hair all at the same time, and everything's made out of plastic that's really cheap and shoddy, so you've broken half the stuff in there simply by putting your shampoo on the shower tray. And it means they put an extra £5 on your weekly rent.
Anyway...means I now have the choice of showering in the dark, or flashing the golfers that are playing an early morning game on the course that resides directly outside my window. I can't pull the curtain across, because then that traps the steam and sets the fire alarm off, and if you think standing outside in your pjs in the middle of the night is bad, try doing it in a wet towel. I can promise you strange looks, (rightfully) accusing glares and downright osidious leers, but fun is pretty thin on the ground in situations like that.
Needless to say, I'm getting better at not falling over the toilet when I'm groping for my towel, and the bruises on my (stubbed) toes have gone down. A little. By this time next week I may even be able to move them a bit.
current mood: calm
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