[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.