Update after nine years. I always exaggerate with the number nine.
I want a fucking hysterectomy. I always put about 7 pounds on at this time of the month, so I feel bloated and nasty, and this time I've also taken to slamming doors so that they practically leave their hinges. People really do not want to be around me when I'm like this. I'm violent and mean.
Leaving for Aberdeen and Uni on Saturday or Sunday, I haven't yet decided which day, or even what I want to study really. Freshers week. Haunted castles, whiskey trails and speed dating? I'll just settle for some rum and a razor.
I think I'm depressed, how pathetic.
Got some shiny new boots and a few pretty jumpers to take, so that I don't get cold. I'm always cold in winter, I'm one of those people that doesn't take the duvet off the bed even in summer, except that if you sleep next to someone this becomes very uncomfortable. I hate sleeping with other people, I'm always frightened that if I move an inch I'll disturb them...I can keep perfectly still and simply lay there breathing softly for hours and hours oddly enough. Its like mental torture. I did in London and also in Leeds. I am not really all there.
Which brings me onto the subject of men. Why is it that I always seem to end up with tanned, mediteranean looking men with vaguely long hair and something uncomfortably cruel in their eyes? They remind me of the woman hater from Peru in The Bell Jar, or the Brazillian in a silly pirate novel, and just like these people are always obsessed with some part of my appearance, like my hair, or my skin, or my face. Andrea decided that it would be best not to go for a walk in the sunshine in case I got sunburnt. He didn't seem to live life very passionately for an Italian. Probably explains the daytime tv.
Then there was whatshisname, who worried about me walking down the street on the way home and had a minor obsession over my hair. I am nothing special to look at, being a bit overweight, with messy hair and occasional spots (another reason to have the hysterectomy) but I am quite an outgoing person, probably due to my age, too stupid to experience much fear and therefore am not interested in having my hand held at the train station or during the walk home. Or in watching redneck daytime tv, either. Annnyway...To cut a long story short, the last time I went out, which would be Saturday, I met, and ended up being practically forced to dance with, yet another of these men, and when I showed the slightest hint of my displeasure at this I was informed by him that I didn't have much choice and that I should just get on with it. I wish all of these men would either leave me alone completely, or simply smile from a distance, as I think I could just about manage with that. Just about. I hope I am not turning into Esther Greenwood.
I should really write in this journal more often, as when I do it seems almost novel length. Who could be bothered reading an uninteresting novel length whine? Nevermind. Its making me feel better.
So. English, history and a language? Or english, history and archaeology? I shouldn't really be trusted with literature. Books or DVD's. If its romantic, such as "A Room With a View", I'll then want to go to Florence, stand over the bridge of the river Arno and consider life with a handsome but eccentric englishman. If I watch Pirates of the Caribbean I'll want to run away and go out to sea. I'm too much of a romantic at heart. My mind should be tied down by something mundane such as chemisty or mathematics, then I'd consider getting myself a mundane but well paid job instead of riding all summer on the craziest of horses and pretending that I am not galloping across some sand with a middle aged, leery lawyer, I'm actually galloping across a battlefield or a desert, and that when my horse rears, it is not out of excitement, but because shes heard the clash of swords or a sandstorm behind us. That would be most interesting, but even when we dress up as crusaders I've never get heard the clash of swords. Goddamnit.
Nevermind. I'm sure I'll meet some likeminded people, probably even crazier than myself, and fit in somewhere, with something. Or perhaps I'll just carry on daydreaming and bleeding.
Leaving for Aberdeen and Uni on Saturday or Sunday, I haven't yet decided which day, or even what I want to study really. Freshers week. Haunted castles, whiskey trails and speed dating? I'll just settle for some rum and a razor.
I think I'm depressed, how pathetic.
Got some shiny new boots and a few pretty jumpers to take, so that I don't get cold. I'm always cold in winter, I'm one of those people that doesn't take the duvet off the bed even in summer, except that if you sleep next to someone this becomes very uncomfortable. I hate sleeping with other people, I'm always frightened that if I move an inch I'll disturb them...I can keep perfectly still and simply lay there breathing softly for hours and hours oddly enough. Its like mental torture. I did in London and also in Leeds. I am not really all there.
Which brings me onto the subject of men. Why is it that I always seem to end up with tanned, mediteranean looking men with vaguely long hair and something uncomfortably cruel in their eyes? They remind me of the woman hater from Peru in The Bell Jar, or the Brazillian in a silly pirate novel, and just like these people are always obsessed with some part of my appearance, like my hair, or my skin, or my face. Andrea decided that it would be best not to go for a walk in the sunshine in case I got sunburnt. He didn't seem to live life very passionately for an Italian. Probably explains the daytime tv.
Then there was whatshisname, who worried about me walking down the street on the way home and had a minor obsession over my hair. I am nothing special to look at, being a bit overweight, with messy hair and occasional spots (another reason to have the hysterectomy) but I am quite an outgoing person, probably due to my age, too stupid to experience much fear and therefore am not interested in having my hand held at the train station or during the walk home. Or in watching redneck daytime tv, either. Annnyway...To cut a long story short, the last time I went out, which would be Saturday, I met, and ended up being practically forced to dance with, yet another of these men, and when I showed the slightest hint of my displeasure at this I was informed by him that I didn't have much choice and that I should just get on with it. I wish all of these men would either leave me alone completely, or simply smile from a distance, as I think I could just about manage with that. Just about. I hope I am not turning into Esther Greenwood.
I should really write in this journal more often, as when I do it seems almost novel length. Who could be bothered reading an uninteresting novel length whine? Nevermind. Its making me feel better.
So. English, history and a language? Or english, history and archaeology? I shouldn't really be trusted with literature. Books or DVD's. If its romantic, such as "A Room With a View", I'll then want to go to Florence, stand over the bridge of the river Arno and consider life with a handsome but eccentric englishman. If I watch Pirates of the Caribbean I'll want to run away and go out to sea. I'm too much of a romantic at heart. My mind should be tied down by something mundane such as chemisty or mathematics, then I'd consider getting myself a mundane but well paid job instead of riding all summer on the craziest of horses and pretending that I am not galloping across some sand with a middle aged, leery lawyer, I'm actually galloping across a battlefield or a desert, and that when my horse rears, it is not out of excitement, but because shes heard the clash of swords or a sandstorm behind us. That would be most interesting, but even when we dress up as crusaders I've never get heard the clash of swords. Goddamnit.
Nevermind. I'm sure I'll meet some likeminded people, probably even crazier than myself, and fit in somewhere, with something. Or perhaps I'll just carry on daydreaming and bleeding.