Supplanted

My appetite for food, drink, socialising has been supplanted by an apptite for shopping, shopping and more shopping. Usually on the internet when it doesn't seem as though you are spending real money. A game of monopoly with lethal consequences. And cognitive dissonance sets in.

Another Twist of the Knife

This Blog is dying of neglect. T. has not called me about my book of poetry. He made an appointment with and failed to turn up. And to think I was once one of his proteges. To think that he once believed he I had a great future ahead of me. I will ring him tomorrow and demand to know what is going on. Has the Daemon downstairs been busy working his diabolical magic? Yet another reason to despise that guy. 'You'll get yours,' I whisper. The worst thing is he probably won't. Malevolence and backstabbing get you far in life, apparently.

Binge-eating as well as binge-shopping. Went mad in town - I bought a brown bag with pockets at the front, a glittery notebook and matching pen, an Alice band, a purse and a pocket mirror - all from Accessorise. I moved on to Boots and bought Toni & Guy's Colour Revive shampoo. And then on to Sisley to buy a top to match my long flowing brown skirt.

I am being forced to see a peculiar beauty in absolute solitude.

Moi Aussi

http://www.badongo.com/file/1123181

No, I don't sound or look terribly good. But then that was never my aim. All weekend I listened as my neighbour upstairs threw her belongings out of the window. I rang NHS Direct but to no avail. On Monday I spent the morning in town and then I visited my GP to collect my medication. When I returned a neighbour (I shall not name him) informed me that The First Mrs Rochester had been taken away in an ambulance. The health authorities here are not proactive. They are reactive. They seem to be unfamiliar with that old notion: an ounce of prevention is better that a pound of cure..oh, and it costs less too.

On Tuesday I heard her - moving about above. They'd let her out already. I ran upstairs. I picked the smallest voice recorder in the known universe and clipped it to the lapel of my black cardigan. But what I was confronted with when I knocked her door was not what I was expecting A tall, endlessly tall blonde haired guy. And what you can hear in the link followed.

That is my insurance. I'll wager its more reliable that the insurance Royal and Sun Alliance offers.

Where does sympathy for others end and the need for self preservation begin?

Stalled

Entropy- everything disintegrating around me. Notable events of the last week - bought myself a PSP - a sleek, black PSP (I can't work out why anyone would want a white one). Currently playing Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. Mother visited over the weekend - she bought me a new double bed as an early birthday present. And the debts keep accumulating. I am very behind on my IT course - I am stuck. I don't feel as though I can (or even want to) carry on.

Humbled

I saw myself in a mirror at Boots. When I was going to collect the very medication that is causing all this hideous weightgain. Embtittered and angry. Calorie counting the food in Pret a Manger. Up to the counter. The woman serving me was stick thin. A flash of envy. Then she looked up and smiled. She had a harelip. I felt awkward and guilty and all twisted up inside. Especially when she responded to me with kindness and sensitivity.

Rejection

Rejected by my own college or should that be 'ejected'? No PhD there then,

Oh, well, looks as though lt's NYU!!!!!
or Tulane
Or Carnegie Mellon
Or Colmunbia or maybe Pulitzer Shcool of Journalism
Or maybe Colorado.
Or maybe I should lower my sites:

Birkbeck
Goldsmith's
KCL
UCL
Any where in London (I've always wanted to live in London just to convice myself that I could conquer LONDON,)

Anchored Down

I am detached from the world once more. I am working part-time now – supplementing my income with freelance writing and proof-reading. *sigh* I shall be famous soon enough. I feel heavy, anchored to the earth. I want to fly. I want to be translucent and incorporeal again. That light airy feeling that passed with my teenage years. When unhealthiness meanthealthinesss - my paradoxical self. That was my coping mechanism and I have found nothing to replace it. Not even my first love - writing.

Some good news - I attained a 2i on an undergraduate maths test. I feel an urge to hunt down my old primary school teachers and thrust this result into their smug faces. For it was they who told me (when I was about five) that humanities were for me. They taught me to despise the sciences and maths. They forgot to mention, however, that, on average, humanities graduates earn substantially less than science graduates.