I am smiling a lot more these days. Rachel's bloke thinks I have mellowed. He did not know me very well to start with so I don't necessarily read too much into this but I like the imagery. I am becoming like cheese, richer and fuller the older I get. Smelling a bit stronger. Maybe you can tolerate less of me in one sitting than before. Not to everyone's taste. Able to clear in room in two minutes flat. Etc etc.
These things make me happy.
I have met someone I quite like. This in itself is unusual enough to warrant some sort of seismic change, I think, but I am too terrified of jinxing things to want to talk about it. I thought it should be recorded for posterity, however.
Term started again today, although I am not sure if I was supposed to be in a lecture or not. I think that is tomorrow's purpose. I am not scared yet. I am going to be circumspect about this year, enjoy it, not take it too seriously. Passionate emotions of one persuasion or the other are beyond me at the moment and that it how I like them. Just out of range.
My room is tidy for the first time in four months. I quite like it like this. There are fairy lights and the bed is made and all the clothes have been hung up. I have a desk and a chest of drawers and a bottle of Jack Daniels on the windowsill.
I am keeping a journal again. A real, paper journal. I finished the one my brother gave me while I was on holiday and realised as soon as I was bereft of it that I rely on it quite heavily. It is a satisfyingly different medium to internet blogs. I realise that the very nature of blogs mean they are public and scrutinisable and they must be edited to some degree but I have never liked this, not really, despite my patronage of the form. They are useful for providing humourous information and photos and suchlike, but I have a horror of being too honest and there is always some sort of self-restraint, even in my most grumpy mood. Blogs are the bits of life you think other people will find interesting. My journal is bits of life that I find interesting.
These things make me happy.
I have met someone I quite like. This in itself is unusual enough to warrant some sort of seismic change, I think, but I am too terrified of jinxing things to want to talk about it. I thought it should be recorded for posterity, however.
Term started again today, although I am not sure if I was supposed to be in a lecture or not. I think that is tomorrow's purpose. I am not scared yet. I am going to be circumspect about this year, enjoy it, not take it too seriously. Passionate emotions of one persuasion or the other are beyond me at the moment and that it how I like them. Just out of range.
My room is tidy for the first time in four months. I quite like it like this. There are fairy lights and the bed is made and all the clothes have been hung up. I have a desk and a chest of drawers and a bottle of Jack Daniels on the windowsill.
I am keeping a journal again. A real, paper journal. I finished the one my brother gave me while I was on holiday and realised as soon as I was bereft of it that I rely on it quite heavily. It is a satisfyingly different medium to internet blogs. I realise that the very nature of blogs mean they are public and scrutinisable and they must be edited to some degree but I have never liked this, not really, despite my patronage of the form. They are useful for providing humourous information and photos and suchlike, but I have a horror of being too honest and there is always some sort of self-restraint, even in my most grumpy mood. Blogs are the bits of life you think other people will find interesting. My journal is bits of life that I find interesting.
i shall not headbutt back. it just isn't in me to be so brash..
(sigh).
thank you for the picture comment. i like the utter emo-ness of it.
thank you xxx