We get lost in the blink of an eye

I've done very little of note since my last entry, hence my delay in writing. I'm only doing this now because I know that if I don't, I'll keep forgetting.

Wednesday was spent at Darren's, pretending to do some work whilst watching Firefly. I came home and actually worked on an essay, which in truth is causing more problems - the more I write of the essay, the more I think I should completely change the focus. I'm just going to write and write and see what comes out coherently. It ought to work, in theory.

Yesterday I agreed to work two separate shifts for the agency, solely because I was offered extra money to work in the day. I couldn't refuse. Neither was particularly difficult, and in between I treated myself to Selfridges' ice cream, new make up, film magazines and DVDs. Finally buying True Romance made me very happy, and I plan to watch The Lost Boys soon. As well as that I still have a few DVDs in my boxes which haven't been watched, and I feel bad for neglecting them.

Today I worked at the university, met Darren for chocolatey goodness and spent the evening in bed. With most of my Cub article written and my essay stalled, I tidied my room a little. Not that it made a difference, it still looks a lot worse than it is.

Tomorrow I agreed to 8 hours for the agency before I go to meet Rory for drinks and ranting. I'll come home, collapse in bed and wake up on Sunday to meet mother and Captain Boring as they come down bearing food and an empty car to take away the first load of my belongings. I should start looking for somewhere to live. As it is, I have so many shifts at both jobs next week that it could prove difficult to find the time...

And holiday issues are no closer to being resolved.

These scars are permanent and always on display

Mine are, of course, psychological, but the thought is there nonetheless.
To add to my earlier update with something less angsty:

I've done little today, as predicted. I went to work only to be told to go home and rest. I love my job sometimes. I sat in bed, talking to the friend who needed to avoid his revision and be told what an idiot he is whilst reading The Spectator. I'm ready to start my essay tomorrow, and whilst it will no doubt be disastrous, this is the one course that I'm willing to let my grades slip in. I gave up caring in week 3.

Tomorrow I have Cub articles to write, an essay to work on and general housekeeping type things to deal with. I may take a trip east to see that boy that I can't quite seem to get rid of, and hopefully I'll be able to sort my mind out. Ha. How likely is that?

Things with the holiday are causing problems. I sense friendships falling apart. It's a horrible feeling. But then again, there's very little in my life right now that doesn't give me that feeling.



I want it to be Saturday so I can see Rory and try to work out what the hell is wrong with me.

Can't say I blame you one bit

I told him. As predicted, he doesn't feel the same, although I've finally found out who his mystery crush is. He was a darling about the whole thing, as I should have known he would be. Proof if needed that if he'd just feel the same he would be perfect.

But why should I expect perfect? Nothing ever is for me. I'll never be the one he wants, and recently I've doubted if I'll ever be the one anyone wants again. I seem to be the one people turn to when there's nothing better on offer, but I'm never the first choice. Even amongst my friends it's a feeling I'm getting more and more frequently.

I'm hitting depression again, despite how hard I've fought against it for the past few weeks. This is not good.


I'll focus on the positives. Once I find them. Music. Music. Music. Music. Music.


I'm going to work. I need a distraction. It's not him that's got me down, I only told him to make myself feel better by having the closure I needed. That bit worked. I'm happier about that whole situation. But a lot of the things we talk about make me realise that nothing in my life is how it should be. It hasn't been for a while, and I really can't see how it will be ever again.

What did you expect from me?

I'm feeling marginally better, although I'm sure that has a lot to do with the medication and very little to do with actual recovery. No doubt I should have turned down the shift I was offered by the agency tomorrow evening, but clearly I'm a glutton for punishment. A genius with a headache. A very bad headache.

My laptop has been returned to me, allowing me to pretty much finish the first of the essays. Whilst it still needs to be tidied up, and I'll no doubt add more criticism, it's good to have the bulk of one out of the way. Tomorrow, whilst I should be working, I'll be stood behind the bar reading extracts from the Spectator and drafting my essay on eighteenth-century London masculinities. Wednesday I plan a day of relative rest, although in reality that just means that I'll be spending most of the day lying in bed trying to get through the basic shell of this essay. I still need to tidy my room more, and begin packing. Mum's coming to take away my things this weekend, although not all of them.

Walking around today listening to radio-friendly pop punk and indie, with the sun shining, I realised how much I'm coming to like summer. I always used to prefer autumn, but now I think that a beautiful day is made by sunshine and bright colours. I'll be working too much to really enjoy any alone time in the sun with a book, like I did last year, but at least I'll have some kind of opportunity over the holidays in the garden. Hopefully.

Cub tonight was something of a joke, with no one showing up. It looks likely that I'll be given music editor for next year, although it's not guaranteed. It will be a lot of work, but I think it's doable.

Things with Darren are unpredictable, in a way, yet at the same time so familiar. I'm happy just cuddled up with a good DVD (and we've made our way through rather a lot of those really), so life is good right now.



Apart from him. I've come so close to telling him how I feel recently, but I'm still holding back. I don't want to lose him as a friend, and I'm sure it's not me he's talking about when he describes feeling exactly how I feel about him, only for his mystery girl. I wish it could be me. It's never me.

Numb

I've spent this entire week working hard, with various trips to the library and Darren's interspersed. The Zoo on Wednesday was fantastic fun, although Cheapskates was rather enjoyable sober and ill. Today I was sent home due to my flu-like tendencies, and Candice offered to take care of me whilst she revised. I saw through this, but I'm here nonetheless.

Despite being absolutely flat broke I'm going to Darren's tonight, to see if the warmth of his room makes me any better than my freezing room would. My essay isn't finished, although with only criticism to add and a conclusion to write it looks more achievable than previously. Now to start on the other three.

Help Me

The last week has been spent everywhere but in my own house. Seeing Darren so often has been brilliant. Not because there's something going on, but for precisely the opposite reason. Just having a friend to feel so comfortable around, someone who makes me laugh, is something I've needed since I moved to London. It's something I'll need even more when I go home, and will struggle to find.

My supposed best friend came to stay on Saturday, and that's all she did. I spent a grand total of around 2 hours with her, the rest of her time being given over to her favourite band. Whilst I understand the devotion she has, I was hurt that she didn't make more of an effort to see how I was or catch up. And it only made me the more aware of the fact that she's never come to see me without Muse being involved, and that recently she hasn't even had time for talking. Moving away is certainly an eye-opener.

After something of a revelation whilst on tour, my life is certainly back on track. Realising my priorities was something I'd needed to do for months, and now I've worked out who I am and what I want I feel much happier than I have in a long time. I suppose the busy lifestyle I've forced on myself could help, I hardly have a moment to think of anything outside of work and university right now, although I'm making time for friends who need me more than I need myself.

26 days until the Obsession. 25 days too long.

I'm not so sure if I'm sure of anything, anymore

I went out on a high. I was on the barrier screaming my heart out amidst people who barely seemed to know what band was on. I met Ratboy. I got a setlist. I bought a shirt. Despite having no voice at all, I really made the most of it.
Now to wait for them to return.

Today I came home, and realised that my laptop has given up. Again. I'm not impressed, to say the least. I have a million things going on right now and none of them are particularly positive, although if Ticketmaster manage to help then I'll at least get to maintain GC tradition tomorrow.

One more new Trio song, one more reason to wish it was May 10th.




And as for him. It's always too good to be true.