[there's not even a wire, just a whispering in air]

Oh hi there blog that I haven't updated in over a month, approaching two.

I really wish I could manage to keep a blog for more than a few weeks at a time. I have a diary that I write in every day, and I can do that just fine. I have a private LiveJournal that I update once or twice a week (I used to update it that many times a day a few years back ... but now, despite my life being more interesting, I seem to have less to say, somehow), and I check my friends page almost every day. But keeping a blog that anyone in the whole world could see? Nope. I can't seem to get it to work. The balance between too much information and not enough is too tricky to get right. I want so much to get it right, though, I really do!

So, okay. What's happened in my day today?

I went to the library, as I've been doing every day (bar Saturday) for about 2 weeks now. It could be less, I'm not entirely sure, but it feels about that long at least. In the morning I managed to get quite a lot of work done (admittedly, I was using Wikipedia to learn about the Russian Revolution, but it helped and was actually quite interesting, so don't judge), but then we went outside to have lunch and saw that the sun was making a break for it, only to be replaced by grey clouds, and things went downhill from there.

My afternoon was spent talking to Georgia on Facebook chat, despite her sitting at a computer on the row in front of me, just because she didn't want anyone to overhear what she wanted to tell me. Then I tried to read a chapter from Eric Hobsbawm's Age of Extremes, but it was boring so I stopped. Ooffii came over to talk to me, and we discussed an American Studies social, so I went and made the Facebook event for that instead of doing more work.

Sphie and I left the library at about 5, and after dropping off our bags and collecting Mark, we went to the fish and chip shop. We ate while watching the Jerry Springer show, and then Mark and I did some washing and drying, while Daniel provided me with sunflower seeds.

We watched The Apprentice at 9, then I tried to wipe the scuff marks off my wall, only to discover they're not scuff marks, but scrapes in the paint. Rubbish paint. Daniel tried to give me a fireman's lift up the stairs but gave up near the top. I slithered along the carpet into my room, with him standing on me. I'm not sure why I played along with this. It was a lot of effort, and I've a feeling that tomorrow morning I'm going to wake up aching. It seemed funny at the time.

Not the most exciting day in the world, I'll grant you that. But it's a proper actual entry. So that's got to count for something. Right?

[she's cheer captain and I'm on the bleachers]

Well, whaddya know, it's been exactly a month since I last updated this. I knew this would happen, my whole not updating thingymajig. Oh well, I'm back now.

To be fair to myself (and I feel I should be), I've been on holiday in Florida for the past three weeks. We got back yesterday, a day later than we should have - our flight was cancelled on Thursday because the license on the emergency escape slides had expired on the plane. Or something. I'm not sure how this managed to happen because, you know, don't they CHECK? Since the plane apparently can't fly with this thing expired, you'd think they'd have some sort of system of knowing when the license would need updating.

As it was, it must have cost Virgin a hell of a lot of money, since they had to put everyone who was flying economy (those in First Class and Premium Economy were able to fly because the slides for them were just fine) up in a hotel for the night, and they gave everyone vouchers for dinner, breakfast and lunch. We also all got given round trip tickets to anywhere in the world (apart from Australia). So that made it all all right.

It's a shame Virgin don't fly to anywhere in Colorado, because getting my flight over there for free might have been nice. Oh well. I could always go to Hawaii. Or Japan. 

Speaking of Colorado, I've got my appointment for my visa at the American embassy a week Wednesday. The interview is supposed to take 2 -3 hours. What in God's name will take so long? I have about a gazillion forms to fill in beforehand so I can't imagine I'll have (m)any to fill in when I get there. So what could they possibly want from me? Are they going to shove me in a room and watch me for an hour or so, just to decide if I'm the kind of person they want in their country? Or are they going to ask me the same question in as many ways as possible to try and trick me into revealing some shocking secret from my past that would somehow prevent me from being able to attend university in the United States? 

OT: Why is that I only have a 'usual' meeting place with people from Cardiff? I don't have a 'usual' place to meet with any of my Brighton friends.

[suppose I never ever met you]

This evening I decided to go crazy and do something I don't usually do - I watched a film! Well, I watch films fairly often, but they're almost always something Sophie has chosen. This was one I bought on a spur of the moment 'I think I'd like that film' thing when I was in HMV last week. It was The Edge of Love, which is based on the life of Welsh poet Dylan Thomas and his relationship with his wife and his first love.

It was completely beautiful. It was all dramatic and romantic and bittersweet, and the cinematography was perfect. Plus it had Keira Knightley in it and I confess I've always had something of a soft spot for her. Her Welsh accent was quite lovely.

Romantic period dramas always make me yearn for a life like the one the film portrays. I want a romance that's so intense and dramatic that it always makes me feel alive. It's strange; I think I should want the kind of relationship that's comfortable and cosy and easy. And part of me does. But another part of me - the drama whore part of me - craves passion and intensity and desire. The kind of passion intensity and desire that is always there in the relationship, so that it never becomes so comfortable and cosy and easy that it becomes dull. Comfort in a relationship is acceptable; dullness is definitely not.

I've got my presentation for my Perspectives on North American Migration seminar tomorrow. Yuck. And then I really need to go to Sainsbury's because I have no apple juice. Without my morning mug of apple juice I'm half the person I should be.

[tell me, do you wash your hair in honeydew?]

On the way back from university today, it was horribly rainy and windy. My poor jeans got drenched - they were stuck to my legs by the time I got home. Luckily, though, since the wind was blowing at me, I could hold my umbrella in front of me and managed to avoid having my face splattered with rain. It didn't mean that I couldn't see where I was going and therefore nearly got run over by a cyclist on more than one occasion but, you know, you can't have everything.

Everyone seems to have deadlines for this week, but ... I don't. This is obviously a good thing in one way, but it also means I have more riding on the end of year exams. Of which I have 5. Damnit. I only had one last year. Five is a problem for me - I'm useless at prioritising my time to make sure I revise everything equally. Having said that, my first and last exams are seen exams, so I don't have to revise for them quite so avidly.

I do have an assessed presentation next week though. I hate presentations at the best of times, let alone assessed ones. It's really strange - when I'm answering questions or joining in with the discussions in class, I'm completely fine. In fact, in 3 out of my 4 courses, I'm easily one of the most talkative in the classes. Yet make me actually stand up in front of a class with a Powerpoint presentation and the criteria to talk for 10 minutes? I turn into a nervous wreck. I talk too fast, I skip around points, I fidget ... I generally fail at appearing confident. Maybe I should have gone on one of those mini courses the university does from time to time to teach people to be more confident in doing presentations. But I always think 'noo, I'll be fine'. And then I get there and I suddenly start shaking and perspiring and I'm completely NOT fine. 

I know, I'll get drunk first. Dutch courage, as it were. That'll work.

ETA: In reference to #2 in this post, in our seminar this morning, Robert Cook came in, sat down and announced, "Now, as you know, I've been retraining as a Russian historian ..." He's a funny man.

[every time I scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it]

From my experience at Gillian and Annie's house party last night, I won't be drinking Long Island Iced Teas for a while. Or if I do, I certainly won't then drink cider mixed with vodka + orange afterwards. It might taste nice, but I will end up horrendously and stupidly drunk again. And as much as I enjoy being drunk, that was stupid levels of drunkenness. People were actually concerned about me. And I was just generally being stupid and annoying and have vague memories of flirting far too much with Michael. God.

What is wrong with me? I admit that I'm a flirt, but why does my flirting go into insane overdrive when I get drunk? I should stop this. Yes. I will.

Although I think I might have made that as a New Year's Resolution last year, and it failed miserably. 

I'm tired, but am not in the mood to go to bed. This is unfortunate. I had very little sleep last night. I've no idea what time I went to bed (4am-ish, I guess), but I was fully awake by 8am. I tried to get back to sleep but it just wouldn't work. That's happening to me way too much after I've been drinking. I woke up still drunk, so gulped down loads of water and then walked to Oxfam in an attempt to walk off the remnants of drink.

I stole someone's cookies while I was on the till. But, you know, it was their fault for leaving the packet behind the counter. If you leave cookies unattended, you must expect them to be eaten. It's just how it works.

[it's a thief in the night to come and grab you]

I keep having dreams that really confuse me because in them, I get out of bed and open my bedroom door. So when I do wake up, I can't remember whether that actually happened and I went back to bed, or if I actually dreamt it. I have to spend a few minutes trying to assess how realistic the possible dream was.

Last night's was fairly easy to figure out, mind you. I got out of bed, opened the door and there were loads of people at the top of the stairs. Daniel was by the toilet door, wearing pyjamas (first sign it was a dream). Sophie was in the bathroom, talking to someone who was, for whatever reason, standing in our bath fully clothed (second sign of it being a dream). I went closer and discovered it was an old school friend of mine (major clue that it was a dream). And Ben was in there too.

... yeah, I've no idea.

Right, to campus to meet Coz for lunch in East Slope Bar. I haven't been into East Slope Bar in ages.

[take a lover on the radio]

Law & Order: UK started this evening and, despite my apprehensiveness about it, it wasn't actually half bad. The format was exactly the same and it worked well. And they kept the 'doink doink', so, you know, that's a plus point right there.

... right, after getting distracted by Ben needing to use my laptop to check his Facebook (he is currently without internet, due to Daniel closing a window a bit too viciously on Ben's internet wire), I'm back. Not that you, mysterious reader, noticed my absence, but that is by the by.

My weekend in Cardiff was rather lovely, even if it did go far too quickly. My muscles still ache from rhythm boxing on the Wii. Seriously, it gets me every time. Although I don't suppose carrying a heavy rucksack the day afterwards really helped matters.

In more personal matters (do I feel comfortable posting about 'personal matters' on here? Does it matter? Will anyone care?), I broke up with my boyfriend today. Except it feels weird calling him my 'boyfriend' because, somehow, I never got my head around the fact that he actually was my boyfriend. Which, I suppose, was part of the problem. Amongst other things, mainly of my own infliction. 

Things will be fine between us. Yes.

I should stop doing this whole messing with boys head thing. Most of the time I don't intend to, I swear. It just sort of ... happens.

ETA: In my America in the Twentieth Century lecture today, Daniel Kane showed us an extract of a poem called 'Pull My Daisy' by Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg and it appealed to me, somehow. So I'm posting that extract here, for your reading pleasure:

Bone my shadow

dove my dream

start my halo bleeding

Milk my mind &

make me cream

drink me when you're ready

[it's in the ABC of growing up]

This morning I woke up with the intention of finishing some reading that I didn't manage to get done last night. But I misjudged the amount of time it would take me, so now I'm finished with it, an hour and a half before I need to leave to go to campus. I could have stayed asleep longer!

And why didn't I get my reading finished? Well, Tim was here and distracting me, but overall last night was a strange night:

- Ben was all hyped up on his antidepressants so was being thoroughly weird and funny and creepy and generally distracting to everyone, including Sophie who was attempting to write an essay that has to be in for today.

- I moved to get off my bed and it collapsed. After lifting up the mattress, Tim and I discovered that my bed had fallen apart due to mould. It's now being held up with magazines, phone books and sweet tins.

- Daniel and I shook on an agreement, and Daniel discovered that I have a rubbish handshake, so we then spent ages with him trying to teach me how to do it properly. Ben and Sphie got involved, but I don't think I'm any better. I'm too much with the shaking and the elbow, apparently.

- Ben ate a Drumstick lolly, not realising how chewy it was, and took to hitting me every time he got a bit stuck in his teeth. He's French; he'd never experienced a Drumstick lolly before.

- Daniel tried to shove his underwear on my head (for reasons unknown), and I managed to trip over the table in the living room in my attempt to get away. Luckily, Ben caught me before I actually fell down.

I didn't get to bed until around 2am. And okay, maybe all that doesn't sound particularly weird, but it was more the randomness of everything. As Sophie said, "I think we're playing tonight."

Okay, I'm going to go and make myself some sandwiches for my train journey home. I get to put them in my special sandwich box! Yey! 

[I was ... looking at the lights]

I was supposed to be doing reading earlier. Instead I fell asleep for two and a half hours and dreamt that I was semi held hostage in a restaurant. I say 'semi' because everyone else I was with were allowed to stay with me, but they could leave at any time, and I couldn't. 

Wait, that's incredibly symbolic isn't it? It only just occurred to me. I feel as if I'm with everyone else, but they can get away and I can't, I'm stuck in the same place. Maybe it's to do with Colorado and how I feel like I'm going to get left behind and forgotten about when I go.

The nap made me feel really weird, so after I'd eaten (at half past 8, which I dislike doing. Tea time is around 6. My brain gets confused if I don't eat around then) I went and sat on the steps at the side of the house and wrote in my scribble journal. It made me feel a lot better. But then I had to come inside because my fingers were seizing up from the cold. I had been planning to go all the way to the swings opposite The Bear* but ... couldn't be bothered to. Come warmer weather, that'll be my first port of call when I'm feeling in a speed writing mood and need to get out of the house.

*The Bear being the pub where we won the pub quiz on Sunday. After going there for a term and a half, we won! Triumph is ours!

[up is where we go from here]

Despite my not having any classes today, I was up at 8am because apparently the guys insulating the walls of our house needed someone to be awake while they did this. They didn't really need to ask - the noise of their drilling would definitely have got me up anyway. Ben started playing his guitar at twenty past 9, which is unheard of (Ben is not what you would call an early riser).

So I did the washing up. And then yelled at Daniel about doing the recycling. I haven't yelled at someone like that in a very long time. It was almost satisfying. But now I can't use my anger card for a while - I can't remember the last time I used it, so it's been building up power for quite some time. It needs to build up power all over again now.

Okay, time to go into Brighton to pick up a parcel and look for some thick navy or grey tights. Yes.

[like a good book, I can't put this day back]

I've managed to get crumbs everywhere while eating ginger creams that I snaffled from Mark. Half of those crumbs are now in my mug of warm milk. I don't normally like warm milk, but I needed it for the purposes of softening the biscuits. For some reason, eating anything remotely hard is really difficult with this stupid ear ache. As is talking. And for someone like me who likes to talk, this is distressing.

Due to the pain involved when speaking, I didn't say much in my American History seminar this morning. Each time I spoke, though, I somehow ended up being slightly insolent to my seminar tutor.

Example #1: Robert asked us to think in terms of military strategy - what would Russia want the US to do to relieve the tension of Germany's invasion? My reply was "I'm sorry, my days as a military strategist are long over." It got a laugh from the class, at least.

Example #2: I asked whether the Cold War had been called so at the time, or whether it was named after the fact, or at least later into it. Robert didn't know - "I'm not a Soviet Union historian" was his excuse. "Maybe you should be," I suggested. At the end of the seminar, he announced he was going to go and retrain as a Russian historian.

Example #3: Robert was briefly running through events, and mentioned D-Day as being in July 1944. "June", I corrected him. He looked at me. "It was in June," I repeated, "June the sixth." He conceded that I was right. Which I was.

How long does it take for ibuprofen (or, in my case, some fake version known as cuprofen) to kick in?

[you can sit besides me when the world comes down]

Today feels strange. I should be madly attempting to do reading for my Tuesday morning seminar. But I'm not, because I've already done it. I'm not used to this situation. I feel somewhat at a loss for what to do.

The kitchen could use a clean, I suppose, but that requires effort, which is something I'm not in the mood for exerting. Maybe later. Yes.

While I was sorting in the back/upstairs room of Oxfam yesterday (I work in an Oxfam bookshop on Saturdays), the radio was on and tuned to Radio 1. It was quite an enlightening experience. I learnt that both Kelly Clarkson and The All-American Rejects have new singles. Wasn't too impressed with Kelly's (but then, nothing can top the whole Breakaway album. Everything is just jumping the shark, IMO) (wait, can a music artist jump the shark, or is that a term exclusively reserved for TV shows?), but AAR's Give You Hell is pleasantly similar to all their other stuff. So I'm currently listening to their latest album.

In other news, I have an ear ache. This is getting silly. There's a limit to how many illnesses/injuries one person can accumulate in a 2 week period. I think I'm being punished for something.

[I wanted pink but I took red instead]

Oh, hi, I appear to have made another blog that I probably won't update after a week or so. Why do I do these things?

It's gone two and I'm currently eating ... well, it's my first meal of the day so techincally it's breakfast. I could call it lunch but I'm breaking my fast, therefore it's breakfast. Yes. And a very healthy breaking of my fast it is - a clementine, followed by a banana, with apple juice on the side. Not sure why I appear to have turned into a fruit fiend. But still, healthy! And nommy.

The house is rather quiet at the moment. It always disconcerts me somewhat when the house is quiet. Ben's still asleep (or at least hasn't emerged from his room yet today), Sophie's on her way to Coventry, and Mark and Daniel are ... on campus? At work? Who knows.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to return to my reading on Harry Truman and the Cold War. Which, incidentally, I totally don't understand. How can you declare war without there actually being, you know, a war? It's all rather odd.