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?
