further stupidity

Only realised last weekend that what I'd always thought was just a weird potted plant on a pound coin is, in fact, a leek.

fishy

Useless things people said while playing Articulate last night:

"It's not a prawn."
[it was a shrimp].
...
"When something is put there to guide you to the incorrect answer, it's a red... come on, it's a type of fish..."
"Mullet! Red mullet"
...
"I don't know who this book is by... um, okay, first name of the title is the name of a guy I dated, we were talking about him earlier..."
"David."
"And the second name is... oh, you know, its famous..."
[when timer has run out] "Rachel, David Copperfield is by Dickens." (Victorian literature is something I tell people I enjoy in order to be precocious).

Okay, most of these useless things were things said by me. Grumble.

burn

Rescuing a roasting chicken from the oven today I burned my arm on the wire shelf. Annoyingly its the slender part of my wrist, the natural resting place of my watch. Perhaps it will train my to wear it on the correct side (its always on the right).

Want to sleep but not sure I'll find it so easy, tonight. Overactive imagination (burned in more ways than this).

v day #2

(last year here)

Today we went to the cinema in Cambridge and watched Breakfast at Tiffany's, which I've never seen but I did read, once; I'd forgotten it was Capote, it is too long ago. It was beautiful and because I woke feeling sad it was an antidote I needed, a salve to the mean reds only Holly Golightly can provide.

The day before he brings me cake and a flower and a pretty mug, and we cook and talk and finally I make a decision about what I'll do for Lent. I will write, every day, nothing much perhaps but I'll publish everything I type. I give him more words this year, my own, this time.

The train home is crowded and I spend the journey not quite sure of consciousness, hoping you realise how important words are, to me.

history

I always delete my browser history (Firefox calls it Private Data, which I like) before my boyfriend comes for the weekend. At this stage in our relationship I'm really not sure why; he knows I read about food and fashion and celebrities. He knows where I watch porn. He knows this blog exists, though I don't think he reads it. He clears his own history before I visit, too.

He left today after a sunny weekend. The browser history I've got now reads as a map of the past few days, full of chocolate and brunch and the inevitable facebook stalk; a checking of e-mail and links to flights for August. A pleasing version of those research trails lawyers are so annoyingly fond of.

***

On another note - I know what's wrong with me, now. I had a wisdom tooth extracted at an emergency dentist appointment on Wednesday. I am much better already.

everyone says

Yoga was packed yesterday. Savasana isn't terribly relaxing when you're trying to avoid sticking your toe in your neighbour's ear.

In the summer following my first year of university I caught a horrible cough. I couldn't shift it and eventually it took me over. My energy levels plummeted and I quit my waitressing job. Though I went to the doctor a few times I refused to do anything much about it. Needles in the artery at the elbow raise panic in me.

I got better.

But I still get that feeling of fatigue, sometimes. It's not a physical tiredness. It isn't depression, either. It's a disconnect from the world, a feeling of being underwater with sounds and faces blurred by the rush of liquid. Nothing seems quite solid.

I've felt like that more frequently, lately. I get dizzy when walking, a head rush whenever I stand. I struggled horribly in yoga yesterday, fighting dehydration (it is certainly a cause) and an overwhelming sense of collapse.

Everyone says its anaemia, and they're probably right. I am good at ignoring my health. I never drink enough water and I don't eat much protein, let alone red meat. I do eat, though, I promise. My bruises take an age to heal; my scars rarely do. I have an injury from 10 October that still hasn't disappeared from my shin. But that's nothing unusual.

I'm not unhappy; far from it, despite the tedium of college (and the fact I'm listening to Eels). I'm just so very tired. Maybe it's boredom? I'm trying my best to alleviate that.

I guess I may have to get over the blood test thing.

hope

Listening to two girls chat beside me in the awful dungeon of a cafe in college, talking about how they don't have time to do any job applications. Yet, bizarrely, neither of them have actually done the preparation for today's classes; what keeps them so busy, I wonder?

This course is not hard work. Watch a few hours of online lectures a week, read up on anything you're hazy about and make a stab at a basic prep task. Turn up to all your classes and you're in college for about ten hours a week.

If you can't cope with this, how on earth will you be a lawyer? Will you sulk when you're not allowed to go at half past five on the dot? Will you ignore the tasks your supervisor sets you in favour of the pub and then moan about what a bitch she is, how busy you are, doesn't she understand?

I know, I know, I'm arrogant. I'm struck equally by reassurance and fear; these girls aren't really competition in the job market, but then again I've met people just like them who are qualified lawyers.

Spanish class soon.