December 2006
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Cough-Splutter-Cough
16th December 2006
Term has ended, it's desperately cold in the flat where I'm trying not to cough as I type. As always, there are many things that remain to be done, but coughing fits and good nights rest do not go well at all, and heaven knows when I shall be able to get proper shut-eye. All those ambitions plans to get a head-start on the new year seem to have vanished, taken along by the pain that rips up my ribs and sinks deep into my stomach.
I could go on for a long time about many things, but let's face it: words are nowhere as exciting as pictures, and by that I mean photographs and beautiful colours. Of course I should start messing around with the camera that cost me a pretty bomb (not that bombs cost that much to make, or so I'm told by movie-makers). But that would involve manipulating software, staring at a screen until the eyes run, amongst other things. It would of course give me something other than moping to do, I suppose.
X'mas time should be when everybody cheers and enjoys and loves, but somehow the inevitable always happens around this time. Na•ve me died almost 2 years ago, but it still feels terrible to hear about how almost all good things inevitably come to an end. Even what seems like a seemingly rock-solid foundation can sometimes crumble and expose the hollow rods within.
However, I should focus my attentions on recovering. There is no point venturing halfway across the world when you're in no mood to do anything other than to curl up under your duvet and wish you were dead.
Need to focus on the positives: the joke that were the mocks. Tell me, how is it possible to spend 2 hours tabbing up textbooks and notes and score a high distinction? I'm not showing off, honest, just need a bit of good news and to express my utter amazement at the result. If only the real stuff were that good. But already I fear a re-sit might be in order considering the amount of coughing and rattled composure which went into that.
Tomorrow I venture off to a land so familiar yet unknown. Where I frequented as a child but haven't been back since. I will be reunited with the other bee, but leave behind my germs which will be taken for a hopefully whiz-bang time in Val d'Isere. I want to say I wish I were there, but I know I will get sprayed by loads of snow at the bottom of the nursery slopes. Still, why can't transcontinental travelling be faster than 14 hour flights?
Affections
10th December 2006
As in things that affect you, that have an effect on you, that causes you to effectively lose control. Control has been the one thing I've fought hard to possess these years, and when it all loses its power all of a sudden, what we're left with is frightening. Festivities suddenly lose all significance, the easy availability at hand gets swept away with nary a look behind.
Of course I'm taking matters way beyond the actual situation. We all do that. Without this urge to over-analyse and over-dramatise there can be no one person who will stand out and get noticed. It is a shame though when matters get blown out of hand as a result. Or do they?
Saw Stoppard's latest last night, and allowed myself to be swept into the music, the lyrics, the na•ve idealism of decades since past. How could we ever look back at this decade which we have dominated and say 'I grew up listening to that' with pride? All we have when we open the free evening papers are talent-less blondes capitalising on a world so bored of itself that we live dangerously through others, through the lens that never goes to sleep even as we do.
I don't believe in false pretences and appearances, but why should I feel obliged to make a show of matters?
Insomniac
7th December 2006
It's a rotten day. There's been a tornado which ripped roofs and walls off in North London, and the hail/wind/showers don't seem to want to stop. Every afternoon when the sun sets I start wondering whether sleep will continue to elude me this night. A welcome relief when I wake up the next morn, or tossing and turning and feeling panic pangs rise through my frame as I attempt all sorts of stunts to fall into slumber. 'It's a phase.' Indeed, but how long does it need to last for?
Maybe I want to be something more than a suited City worker. That something other than wealth and superficial appearances at social events should drive me instead. But this is the choice I have made, so the unhappiness shouldn't stem from it - or should it?
As always, times of crises bring out much in others. Thanks to all those I love and who love me back. I cannot have done it without your support.
Anyway, some feeble attempts at photography:
The amazing Tate Modern slides
Fiddling with the effects button on my phone has such wonderful effects, such as this wonderful shot of somebody who should know better than to gorge himself on too much ice-cream. Taken just before the emergency text to call an ambulance was sent across the table to me.
Thanks for being wonderful.
To Be Touched
13th November 2006
The weekend has been one of mini epiphanies. The realisation that we have truly grown up, that we have moved on from being little children playing at being Adults. It's a bold proclamation to make, but there has to be a point where the relentless march towards maturation finally gets acknowledged. And I believe this is it. It's also rather satisfying to know that years down the road we will still converge in on one place from wherever we are. That some special effort will be made to make sure we stay on top of life's events. Which is a very warming thought, naturally.
And of course this is such a bizarre feeling to have, to realise that all those books and movies and stories which you hear about old school friends and university mates reminiscing about old times past. When they are able to laugh at silly events which trumpeted the end of the day then which were actually so trivial. That the memories are bitterness laced with sweetness. Knowing that you can never go back but never wishing to do so.
I always find myself getting almost melancholic as Christmas comes along. Yet this time there isn't that overwhelming sense of loneliness that floods over me every time I step into the shiny lights. But still so many people fear getting eaten by Roger, their beloved Alsatian as their bodies lay rotting in an old flat. It is more frightening even than death, this thought of being alone. Of nobody caring.
And if you are one of those people, and if you are reading this, please know that somebody cares: me.
Have also been feeling a little restless of late. The lack of Bee as my travelling companion is sending itchy jiggles up my legs. Being trapped in one city has never been my forte, but even more so now that everywhere I turn I am greeted by face after face, that the faceless masses of bewildered tourists and sullen commuters all blend into one and start to eat away at me.
So I planned my escape: Oxford at the weekend. Of course I will see my two partners-in-crime, with whom we stuck out the most dramatic three years of our lives, who are thoroughly sick of Other Side jokes by now. But there is also the potential of being sucked into another family. Perhaps I am once again thinking too far ahead once more.
Perhaps part of my mood has been brought on by catching this on the telly last night, which brought back so many memories of what I used to care so passionately about, but have seen moved on.
Where is the horse and the rider?
Where is the horn that was blowing?
They have passed like rain on the mountain, like a wind in the meadow;
The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow.
On a Wintry Eve
8th November 2006
My equilibrium has been thrown out of sync again. I know it's overrated, but sometimes I really do wish for a little bit of stability. Is that so much to ask for?
But I don't suppose there is any harm in making this a little more narrative. Since after the utter uselessness of technology has rendered it impossible for me to communicate via more sane means. Yes, my computer is on the frizz again, and it's impossible to do anything more adventurous than opening Gmail without it hanging for 21 minutes.
5 winters have come and gone. Yet I still feel as if I'm living in 1998, just home from school, looking forward to the weekend so I can see the boyfriend, who is very grown-up and in university. Now I've left university way behind, and it's almost become almost a childish thing to talk about. Have been 23 for a few months now, and the numbers still don't stop increasing, do they?
Spent hours on the phone last night too discussing the more serious elements of what life entails. Not in an existential way, but more for the need to be with somebody. That absolutely petrifying thought of being alone. And in spite of all my confident proclamations I sometimes wonder whether I even know what the words out of my mouth mean. And there was how I didn't manage to quite bring up topics I thought could potentially hurt me. I just wasn't ready to deal with it, so like always we ended up discussing our own situation through talking about others. Which in itself could be useful, but is sometimes so tiring. And why should I expect anybody to really understand me when I don't really get myself?
But it's been properly wintry of late, and the temperature has stayed in the high tens, which is perfect for snuggling up under a duvet with a cup of hot chocolate and a good book. I am so easy to please at times, but so dissatisfied with everything else at others. Even better is wrapping up really nice and warm, traipsing across London and hunting down fireworks in Bethnal Green. The night was clear and the moon bright and full, and the canal was lit only by the strong rays of the moon. How often do you get to walk in an East London canal in the dark of the winter night without fearing for your life? And it is beautiful in such a transient, fragile way. I'm not great with reproducing visual images that I see in my mind except through words, and even that is limited at times.
There is so much I have been doing recently. Yet I miss Bee so much. I know it's good to be spread apart once in a while, but the number of ballets and operas that need to be seen is simply too much for me to handle on my own! Time difference of 9 hours are the devil incarnate!
Am really looking forward to the term ending, to Christmas coming, to spending it in the Japanese Alps.
Autumn Falls
26th October 2006
The leaves are starting to spiral downwards in a brilliant burst of reds and golds, but somehow there's a little something lacking. Winter is lurking around the corner, but is kept away by Summer's fierce grip. When will we see toasty fires and roasty chestnuts? When will we don our mitts and hats and shiver with red-faced delight against the howl of the Siberian wind?
Living alone is both liberating and tiring. I am no longer waking up to the sound of Mummy dashing about in the dining and sitting rooms, trying to pack a nutritious and tasty lunch before you cram onto the Tube with dozens of blank-eyed commuters. Loathe as I am to admit experiencing emotions, it is a daunting life to be so many miles away from those whom you love.
This time tomorrow, I will have finished the first of my many exams of the year. I will also be excitedly making my way towards the Premiere of Jude Law's latest film. Yes, I am that prone to shallowness. Like everybody else, I can be celebrity-obsessed if the need arises.
My poor eyes really need a break at the moment, but the prospect of facing more accounts is simply not good for the mood at all.
Still, there's always the knowledge that the sun always comes out after the rain. Or before, depending on your point of view.
Tuesday in Paris:
Rain, rain, go away
Then Golden
Reality Bites
19th October 2006
It's true: you can't always get what you want. And what do I want? Notions of grandeur picked up from years of being fed a steady diet of giddy proclamations. Part of me is relieved, but the other is frightened stiff of being the one who is hurt.
Perhaps it's my compulsive urge to always have the upper hand. That this has been slapped away from my face is something I am having difficulty in understanding and accepting. I was so secure in my superior perch, in that knowledge I had given myself, that now it is simply difficult for me to understand.
I have thought long and hard about this enough. The key to staying alive is to stay on the surface and live in the moment. It's not ideal but it's a method of survival. I just wonder whether/when I might get sick of it all.
Of course, it doesn't help that I am currently ill. And it's probably self-inflicted as well, which makes it doubly annoying and embarrassing. Not that I could really have done anything about it. So I am going to spend the next few hours feeling like I am going to die. Hopefully the medication kicks in soon enough and the pain starts to go away.
Love-Hate
14th October 2006
Loves:
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the softening of the gaze and the voice as an enquiry over one's well-being is made;
-
smiling in the most unusual of situations;
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the slumbering sprawl of the City as it shuts down for the weekend;
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grinning at a foolish rash of emotions that make you want to throw yourself off the deep end, wondering if you will surface any time soon;
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the first hint of autumnal reds and browns, peeking through shyly, wondering when their glorious moment would arrive;
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chestnuts roasting by a wintry fire;
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the feel of a gentle hand against your hair;
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awkward but graceful giraffes and slow grazing elephants gliding down the theatre aisles;
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mindless optimism of one Wooster, B.;
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laundry which does itself and folds away neatly into piles without prompting;
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buskers and fire-eaters along the South Bank
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the giddiness that comes with the unknown;
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being Human.
Hates:
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global warming messing up the glories of autumn;
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mobile phones going off in theatres;
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distance keeping us apart;
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City schmooze;
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Tubes chucking you out in the middle of nowhere;
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spending 2.5 hours of your life being taught how to write a legal letter;
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tourists who hunt in packs;
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cynicism that threatens to take the joy out of a potentially beautiful thing;
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being Human.
M...M...Married!
9th October 2006
Altogether now: ahhhhh!
I should qualify that statement before everybody (myself included) freaks out: not me. But a beautiful darling of a girl who was proposed to (on bended knee!) in front of the Hotel des Invalides In Paris! And she said yes!
Excuse the excessive exclamation points, but that is the most exciting news since, well, anything really. For once in the past few years I'm nice and un-cynical and think that is absolutely amazing news!
Shop Till You Drop
4th October 2006
It is just as well reputation means nothing to me these days. Who knows what people must be saying about the weekend shopping trips and the insane number of boots I have.
But what a time to visit! Fashion week, with beautiful plastic swaning around, clicking their heels and flicking barely-there glances at mere mortals. Sitting in the Galleria Vittorio Emmanuelle II, that life artery that connects the Duomo and La Scala, sipping on an elegant cup of fragrant coffee, surrounded by bags of shopping.
And there isn't even much to complain about outside the ridiculous work we are meant to do this year. It is nice to realise that misery is not always rearing its head at you. That another person can make you laugh and smile without even trying to.
But am I ready to throw away the life of a martyr? Am I really tired of being a distressed soul?
Welcome to the Life
8th September 2006
There was a lot more sarcasm in that title than might initially seem, and be prepared for a rant of sorts. Although summer has come to an end, and I must say it's been one of the best ever, with so many twists and turns you could stick a pair of rabbits in it and call it a warren. And you can be sure that rabbits always find their way to the surface. Like a seed. Okay I'll stop with the stupid metaphors -- for this paragraph at least.
But it's been so long since I've been in a situation vaguely resembling what the Experts call Normal and Healthy. And the thing is, after the initial freak-out, I've adapted rather well to it. I think.
Was also going through some old photographs and shuddering while deleting them. Sometimes you have to simply junk them even if you look good (and I didn't back then, trust me). Because the thoughts it brings back are too ugly to stay around for long. Not that I particularly regret it. It's more a case of Ôwhat in the bloody hell was I thinking?'.
Amazingly, I can now go into a club or booze-venue and properly tell the buzzards to sod off.
But now coming up to the proper topic of this entry: law school is ridiculous this year! Let me get started on the people in order to effect some kind of continuity from the previous paragraphs: what on earth? It seems that every bloke you see is either a jock or a nerd. There are no in-betweens! The jocks all have upturned collars, and while they are on the rare occasion pretty to look at, it's so difficult to talk to them without their egos thinking there's a certain level of interest. I lie: lawyers have got a disproportionate balance of good looks compared with the general populace. Not that I am complaining.
There is also so much work. And such dull work as well. Not as dull as what I'm writing now, I'm sure, but it's oh-so-boring! I don't need to be talked at for 2 hours to be told that a firm cannot act for 2 rival companies! All I know is that it's a wonder I can keep my eyes open. Oh wait, I can't. Between the going out and the rest of it, I am so knackered I can barely wash my face at the end of every day.
Enough whining at any rate. It's enough that I have a face or a mobile phone to do it to at night.
Byeeeeeee
18th August 2006
So the time has come again. Stiff, stuff, cram, jam, all the material possessions filling trunks, bags, boxes. Frantic goodbyes, promises to see each other again very soon. Going back to a city of dreams, a city of hopes, a city where one can almost be alone forever.
Another glorious summer whiled away in the bosom of parental love, of wells that never run dry. Of hot, tropical nights with the reassuring whirl of the air-conditioning unit in a room built for a princess.
Will I tire of this soon? Will the urge to stop spending life as a nomad ever seize me and shake me out of my dreamy optimism?
So many questions, so few answers. So many episodes of Jeeves and Wooster are yet unwatched. The Creeley Sisters are disbanded for the moment, only to resume our high adventuring come Christmas in the Far East. I have dreaded this moment since we stepped off that last train that brought us back to the Great Metropolis, carrying on into the sighing of relief as we brushed off the neon egg-yolk experience and boarded that air-conditioned train bound for Bangkok.
Farewell but not adieu, mes amies.
Wishing You Were Here
14th August 2006
Another melancholic wave sweeps over. I'm still missing you, baby, still wishing the hole between us weren't so wide and far. If it even exists.
Obsession is dangerous. Surely anybody who has read Moby Dick would say 'Aye' to that. 'Tis a refusal to let go, to believe that the inevitable has marched upon us. Yet I have never set eyes on its text. Does this give me the power to slink on, insisting on keeping a certain level of discontent, of rumbling, simmering unrest beneath the surface, barely there?
But I want to allow myself to wallow a little more, to bottle everything inside like some pig-headed martyr being led to the stake to die because of a refusal to recant a belief which isn't even real and then to let it loose upon the world. The fireworks are more spectacular when one has Suffered In Silence.
We all seek attention. It feeds us, drives us, makes us crave more. What else could explain the inadequacy of my little notebook of thoughts, of having to supplement perfectly (il-)legible handwriting with pixels on a screen?
Victory is Sweet
8th August 2006
Some droughts last for ages, but they are never everlasting. The eyes say it all.
And It Goes On
26th July 2006
Who would have thought that the words would have run dry. That exhaustion and disillusionment would leave its mark in the scratching of the pen as the ink drips out.
Why does it still hurt so much? How can 9 years of love and laughter simply disappear into the dancing flames, reduced into a small, blue cylinder which has but a label for its name? Why do the tears still threaten to spread outwards whenever thoughts carelessly wander into where they are prohibited?
I shall never again return to your curious scrutiny, to your forgiving recognition of a restless soul home after months of wandering.
And there are still many who fight to put bread to their plates, to stare without feeling at noisy hulks of metal bearing fellow beings into their world for the briefest of moments, allowing the scent of chilli frying, of rubbish piled high beside the tracks forming the drawing rooms of gamblers drawn to sticks and dice. When the mighty carriage grinds to a halt again, expressionless faces turn to the stony passengers who look back, repulsed and fascinated by what they see. It is but a part of their world that we see, the noises, the sounds, the feel of a drop of perspiration trickling down one's back -- a mark of the tropics asserting itself to a mind which attempts to shut it out.
There is also solitude to be found in others. That laughter can be a cure to discomfort, that small gestures like holding off a photoshoot to ensure another's welfare can be so touching. The delusion that all will be alright in the grand scheme of things is a strong vine to steady oneself against. Frenchmen scream like girls and Captain Jack can find bravery in himself.
Much growing-up needs to be done, but somehow, a little peace can be found in the strangest places when one ceases to thrash wildly about the bushes in search of that elusive mousedeer that refuses to be caught.
Still loving, still missing my beautiful friend and adopted sibling.
From, me.
Twisting and Turning
21st June 2006
So, so you think you can tell Heaven from Hell,
blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?
And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?
Hot ashes for trees?
Hot air for a cool breeze?
Cold comfort for change?
And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year,
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found? The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
Doing all the usual reminiscing that one does when going back to a place which holds so much, you really do end up sitting and thinking and wondering about what has been and what might have been. Not the best things for the mental state, of course, but it's good fun to mess around with your own head once in a while after trying to guard it from doing the very thing for so long.
Everything changes, everything is in constant flux, forever twisting and turning in circles, going round and round until you feel ready to chuck up, and then the wagon twists and flings you in a completely different direction.
Pish posh and a toad for breakfast.
Time to harness the madness for more constructive means.
Pillow Talk
18th June 2006
It's funny how much one can miss long chats into the still of the night about life and even more random things. That lying side by side on an almost breezy summer night and talking with your eyes shut and wondering where everything has taken and will take you into the future. Knowing that so much can happen with wherever we try to drive ourselves is both petrifying and dangerous, but we're on our wobbly paths, sometimes hanging over the ledge, other times colliding with no small amount of surprise.
If you are reading this know that not everything can ever be defined. There exists in this world things which defy all rational thought, that are so unique and even beautiful that no words nor even concept can ever explain it. I know there are many things we don't talk about, and maybe it doesn't have to be discussed. That trying to voice it will only bring about half-truths and confusion. I've never regretted all that has happened, even up to now, and appreciate the apology. We've never been good at talking about ourselves beyond the 'me', and I don't know why I have such problems standing for what is good for me.
Thanks for caring and letting me know that you do. You're beautiful. Fucked up completely, but so fascinating.
Even people who are completely bonkers can appreciate this:
Damn. And I was perfectly satisfied being mad in a random way just like Hugh (Laurie, that is!). When life throws me lemons, I make a milkshake out of them and get a really bad tummy ache.
English Pride
13th June 2006
Before I begin: HOO-RAH! No more exams -- till next year. Gah.
Anyhow, how to celebrate being English:
We've just beat a minion-y team in football. Wooo. Let's climb structures in Trafalgar Square.
Temperatures on the Isles just beat Barcelona and LA. Let's celebrate by jumping into the Serpentine.
Obsessively update everybody on the status of Mister Rooney's foot-scan.
Scoff at football/rugby as a sport for yobs/toffs.
Close down half the tube lines because temperatures have hit 30 degrees.
Maybe I am being a tad unfair. It's still better than being a big girl's blouse! ;)
And how could I forget: Pimm's! Heaven in a glass!
06.06.06
6th June 2006
Many sixes, yay! I love sixes, no matter what the devil-worshipers/haters say. They are so cute. They flip around to turn into 9s. Which other number does that, pray tell? Well, obviously 9s do that, but that's only because they are very clever (or cunning, whichever way you look at them) sixes who are only pretending to be 9s.
Which leaves me 10 days to my birthday. Wow, it's really scary to think of it swinging around again once more. Sometimes I really do wonder what in the deuces I have done with my life. Other times I am convinced the answer will always be a lemon.
Well, that's enough of the really 'help me I am such a tortured young (that's pushing it, I realise) soul who needs some really urgent help' stuff.
I have 3 more exams. Many people have finished by now, and ending so late is really a big icky pile of poo. I am not impressed in the least. Not in the slightest bit impressed, oh no sir, not me.
Fiddlesticks.
I really should just melt away now.
Or consider the possibility of murder with a defence of provocation (last straw: R v Humphreys you know).
Blow my socks away, I am such a geek.
Also, is it possible to become suddenly allergic to pollen? It seems I have been sneezing a lot recently.
It is rather unsettling too when you haven't a clue as to where you will be living next year. Thanks to bloody inefficient property lawyers for stupid Brighton.
Somebody just tried to nick my earphones. Of all the cheeky things to do!
Right, really should slither off now.
And in case anybody was concerned, no I am quite sane, thank you very much. *cluck*
The Room and the Doom
1st June 2006
It's the first day of June! Hurrah! Bravo! (insert whatever appropriate exclamations here) Although I still have about 11 more days of drudgery left.
This is what my room looked like after the rain/gutterwater was through with it:
And this is the highlight of my week:
Sometimes you think you have reached the pit at the bottom. Then the floor gives way and you go crashing down further.
But just a few more days. But now I need to go back to deception and robbery and general human character nastiness. Being a cynic is underrated.
Never Rains but it Pours
24th May 2006
I was looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening curled up in bed with a book to unwind after a horrendous paper. Then something splattered onto my floor. I looked and saw water. Thinking it was the rain coming through the window, I closed it, and saw that my diary was soaked through, erasing a few entries. And then, the water continued dripping, so I put some pails out and shifted my bedside table. Before long, the ceiling started to crack open, and water started coming through and dripping onto my bed. My room looks like it's a 5th century ghetto, and I have an exam on Friday I haven't studied for. kill me NOW.
However, it's now two down, 4 2/3s to go.
Stress pills actually do work. Or maybe I just reached the threshold and started laughing. Also sitting in a corner and rocking myself back and forth, muttering. HELP MEEEEEEEEE.
Thank god for dads.
What Lies Beneath Calm Surfaces
22nd May 2006
Take me for example. One hour's sleep last night, still apparently looking fresh, if a bit rough around the edges. Not feeling too different from the usual exam horror fading in and out. Hmm.
Crimmitschau, district town in the Saxon landkreis of Zwickauer Land, Germany.
Really need some sleep now. Goodnight all!
One down, 5 2/3 more to go!
2 more days
20th May 2006
And then it will all have started, and the beginning of the end of a 3 year course compressed into 1 will have started.
Oh the thought of having to go through exams for another 2 more years leaves me reeling from the prospective shock and trauma.
Mad, mad, I am going completely mad, and I don't even have a pair of underpants on my head and two pencils in my nose.
Happy (American) Mother's Day!
14th May 2006
Hugs and snuggles:
Love, me.
African Gorillas and Tamil Tigers
11th May 2006
Possibly the reason why people read The Sun would be that reading about David Beckham's latest exploits hardly gets one into a right mood and fills one with rage at the utter pointlessness of the world.
But enough of that. Have really been having a good Mozart-filled year, when all those years of learning his craft have started to shown. Where they were simply lovely tunes to pound out on the keyboard, there is a certain level of majority needed to fully understand what was going on behind them, and one cannot blame over-ambitious parents at times. It is a rather amusing party story to tell of how a child of eighteen months would recite 'E equals M C squared' endlessly and answer 'physicist' when asked what they wanted to be when they grew up. The truth would be 'money-grabbing solicitor' now, of course, but I don't see the father minding one bit.
Of course, there is one slight hitch to the grand plan. The bloody exams right before me.
Me? I'm always calm and confident. Phew.
And who would have thought that Mozart had such an irritating laugh?
MAY DAY!
1st May 2006
Oh dear god, oh help, it's now May, and the exam worry is starting to sneak in. That and how I don't have a play written. And my eyes are going. And I'm freaking out.
No I'm not freaking out. I'm just wanting to freak out. Although it's actually only 3 more weeks left till exams. Ah. Not good. But why do I think I can pull off some kind of miracle when I clearly am not up to it? I think were I to keep a conscientious record of my moods I will find myself broodier than a moody hamster at times, and happier than a free-wheeling lamb. Wherever those images came up from.
There's only so much work-avoidance one can do without being sick of the work and sick of the work-avoidance. What next? Trying to find a way to solve the noise problem like the reasonable Corleones? If only the world still worked like that. But I think we'd all have very short lives.
A Little Bit Of Randomness
29th April 2006
Random fact of the day: Shirley Temple is still alive! And in relatively one piece! Now if only those young punks of today can take a leaf out of her book and learn something about dignity and respect. But I forget, it's pretty much dead.
Continuing the panda-theme from last month (don't you love dads who are so fluffy?), here's the first panda ever released into the wild from captivity:
Mediocrity for Me
26th April 2006
Seems to be rather a painful experience to be given the ambition but not the capability to fulfil it. Once again I wish to have my name known, but do nothing except wait for it to come to me.
The prospect of anonymity is more painful than ever as the years flow by and nothing has changed. Perhaps this is why people turn to philosophy, to hours spent pondering over the Point of Existence, of why we were placed here. Being convinced that there is a purpose to all this seems presumptuous: is there a purpose? What are we searching for? Would peace only come when you realise there is no such thing as Destiny?
Meta-physics hurts the head more than physics. Never thought I would say that. But there are times when you simply wonder what the point of everything is. And you wonder too how moods can swing so easily, how easily self-assurance and confidence is brought down by a single word, a single gesture, a single event.
Pondering too much and the lack of action has led to many a long-sighing poet sitting in his garret, watching the sun set over chimney pots and pigeons huddled near them for warmth. He might wish a fellow-pigeon there to comfort him, to share in his own misery, but when given it, he looks upon it with contempt for its base efforts to liberate him from his own cage.
After a while, even the greatest liars and the best masks shatter.
Oh Sunny Days
22nd April 2006
Sun lifts the murkiness from the air and tosses it away with the gloom of the never-ending rain. Granted we need the rain, but since I have no hosepipes, I don't really care about bans!
I write in prose, not verse. Some say it shows a lack of a First-Rate Eddication. Others think I'm a pleb. I think they are plebs. Life trudges on.
Why does everybody think that it's amazing to be so committed to an idea? Do they really think it difficult to do 2 things at once? Is the idea of having both a corporate and waster career really so aberrant? I do enjoy it, what's wrong with that? Is it simply me being childish to think I can do it? Yet, sometimes being a child is not a bad thing. It might protect you in its own way.
But first I am simply going to lie in the sun at Greenwich.
Trapped Within
19th April 2006
My flat has become my prison-cell, the slowly unfolding essay my sentence. I am slowly peeling away the dead skin from the burn on my thumb which I sustained trying to iron a pair of jeans in Vienna.
Also: 'Impact' is not a verb!!!!!!! For heaven's sake, stop talking about how you have 'impacted' somebody's life.
I need to take off for the Australian outback in a pink bus filled with shoes and glitter.
Or I could marry this man ('hazardously attractive, in his own goofy sort of way'??):
I am bored. So shoot me.
A Little Bit of Silliness
17th April 2006
If I were in the Pig Olympics, which sport would I take part in?
Football?
Or swimming?
Or I could just be little Piglet trapped in his house while the water rises around him.
Happy Happy Easter!!
16th April 2006
S bought me an Easter bunny! Yay! Definitely the best S ever! =)
The Easter Bunny shall be my guardian and I shall love it forever and ever.
In the meantime, here are some absolutely gorgeous pictures of the Viennese Easter Market to get into the mood.
Of Bratwursts and Schnitzels
12th April 2006
How much fun can two girls have without bankrupting themselves? Quite a lot, it seems, even if three rounds of a huge train station to look for the cheapest coffee on offer got a bit tiring. Personally, I blame the lack of foresight, in the optimistic hope that we would not have to rely on ridiculously low credit limits and the non-acceptance of Maestro unless it was from Austria, Germany or the Netherlands. Yet there is a certain triumph in finding ways to make the dollar stretch, and of knowing that I beat the urge to purchase a nutcracker to join it on the shelf gathering dust with that non-working cuckoo clock bought from a previous sojourn into the Black Forest. Oops.
In case you haven't been following prior to this, I am now back from that most enlightening, enjoyable and some say entertaining trip. Excruciating details will undoubtedly follow, from how I ended up flying down a ski slop straight into the waiting arms of a tree, of how we saw Brussels on a budget (an hour and 6 euros!), and of course, being surrounded by Mozart cookie-cutters! Hurrah! Very depressingly, I still try to answer in the wrong language when attempting to speak to proprietors!
Head is spinning from more than 50 hours on the train, so I will most probably have to wait a few days before posting photographs. Now bring me that media law textbook and those half-finished scripts.
All Aboard the Orient Express
29th March 2006
Hurrah! Easter is here, Spring is in the air, and we have this to look forward to! Although I might just not want to ever see another train again for the rest of my life!
Deadlines, what are those?
Dum-dum-dum-duuuuuuuum
24th March 2006
The Man:
Behind the Mask:
No wonder the Evening Standard and likes have rubbished such a great film. It's a frightening world portrayed, and things in this country seem to be headed towards there. Great Britain, a dictatorship? A federal state? Good lord, I never thought of myself as being conservative, but this is very, very worrying.
Goodness, all this depression films and books are really getting to me. Why can't all films be as happy and fun as Pirates? Speaking of which, can't wait for the Return of Capt'n Jack! Yay!
Things that Hurt
22nd March 2006
Have been working myself into a right state of late, what with the movies and books and general writing that I've done being of a highly emotional nature. That's what happens when you throw yourself into it, and I know I have only myself to blame. Take the latest film, Papillon, for example. I didn't even have it in me to cry at how sad I found it. The way Steve McQueen kept trying to escape, and the way he shuffled and limped along after he came out of his 5 year confinement. That's what real spirit is. Makes me feel so much like a coward.
And this by Robert Graves:
When I'm Killed
WHEN I'm killed, don't think of me
Buried there in Cambrin Wood,
Nor as in Zion think of me
With the Intolerable Good.
And there's one thing that I know well,
I'm damned if I'll be damned to Hell!
So when I'm killed, don't wait for me,
Walking the dim corridor;
In Heaven or Hell, don't wait for me,
Or you must wait for evermore.
You'll find me buried, living-dead
In these verses that you've read.
So when I'm killed, don't mourn for me,
Shot, poor lad, so bold and young,
Killed and goneÑdon't mourn for me.
On your lips my life is hung:
O friends and lovers, you can save
Your playfellow from the grave.
What is it about fatalism that is sometimes so fascinating, especially when it is coupled with an insane urge to be optimistic and to refuse letting things beat you? Perhaps it's truly what makes us alive. What kills us. And what makes us human.
List-Mania!
19th March 2006
I'm bored, and for want of anything better to do, started looking up the list of 1001 books to read before you die. Shockingly, I've only ever read 31 of them, so have lots of reading to do before I die! As if I weren't blind already.
- Saturday - Ian McEwan
- The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time - Mark Haddon
- Middlesex - Jeffrey Eugenides
- Atonement- Ian McEwan
- Life of Pi- Yann Martel
- Memoirs of a Geisha- Arthur Golden
- The Unconsoled- Kazuo Ishiguro
- Trainspotting- Irvine Welsh
- Wild Swans- Jung Chang
- A Prayer for Owen Meany- John Irving
- An Artist of the Floating World- Kazuo Ishiguro
- The Unbearable Lightness of Being- Milan Kundera
- A Pale View of Hills- Kazuo Ishiguro
- The World According to Garp- John Irving
- To Kill a Mockingbird- Harper Lee
- Lord of the Rings- J.R.R. Tolkien
- Lord of the Flies- William Golding
- The Catcher in the Rye- J.D. Salinger
- 1984- George Orwell
- Animal Farm- George Orwell
- The Hobbit- J.R.R. Tolkien
- Orlando- Virginia Woolf
- The War of the Worlds- H.G. Wells
- The Time Machine- H.G. Wells
- New Grub Street- George Gissing
- The Picture of Dorian Gray- Oscar Wilde
- The Mayor of Casterbridge- Thomas Hardy
- Crime and Punishment- Fyodor Dostoevsky
- Great Expectations- Charles Dickens
- The Count of Monte-Cristo- Alexandre Dumas
- The Three Musketeers- Alexandre Dumas
Seeking an Oasis
13th March 2006
When it's 1 degree out there in the middle of March, one starts to long so badly for something like this.
Take me there now!
In other news, I am going to start learning German for my upcoming trip. 10 phrases a day between tutorials should do the trick. Especially if there's no grammar to learn. Hee hee.
We All Grow Old Someday
11th March 2006
Sitting and listening to songs you loved to bits in your teens but haven't heard in years but finding that you are still able to perfectly remember the lyrics in a language which you hardly know really causes a funny feeling in your head that refuses to go away. It never fails to amaze me how little things can trigger memories which would stay locked away but for these reminders. Locked in each one of us is a life long past, knowledge which no longer sticks to the forefront, but lies dormant under the surface, waiting to startle us by re-emerging at the opportune moment. Maybe there's a reason why we hoard things, as it's simply a way of hoarding memories which we fear would fade away into nothingness.
Yet for all my thoughts of growing old, losing the shine in my hair, seeing furrows make their permanent marks on my face, I managed to be just about the youngest in a club at the other night. Not sure what that was reflecting, though.
Perhaps another reason I have been thinking so much about age is the sudden realisation that I have about another 3 years left before I have to pay full whack on the rail networks! A saving of £70 on the Inter-railing pass is not something to be scoffed at.
Which brings me onto the exciting topic of my up-coming German/Austrian trip. Rail timetables make my head hurt so much, but hopefully none of the experiences with British Rail will transfer to the mainland. But then again, comparing the U-Bahn to the Tube, I am filled with hopeful optimism that we shan't miss any rail connections this time around. 'Else I might just cry if I got stranded in Germany the day of my last writing session. More updates about this most exciting trip will be posted when I work them out, but at the moment it is more or less decided that we would be visiting Köln, Heidelberg, München, Wien, Salzburg and Innsbruck. Yay!
Rain, Rain Go Away
10th March 2006
Even with the latest purchase which would keep me dry from head to toe, I am not convinced that I like this weather. Too grey, too much rain, too cold, urgh!
Had a great night out with friends last night, thought it was completely mad the way some things happen and the way patterns re-occur, but honestly, oh-kaaaaay (goodness am I sounding increasingly so American?). There are some things which I simply cannot be arsed to dodge around and so it shall remain a prima facie/ostrich situation. Whatever.
So many things to do, and so many things in abundance, apart from motivation.
But enough of that stuff, because I'm hungry, and so let's take a look at the wonders of food, courtesy of the continent, of course.
Fusion food at its best.
Tapas with a twist.
Lost in Belgravia
8th March 2006
Whatever possessed me to go running in the rain and around Green Park too? The stupider thing was believing that I could actually get back to Gloucester Road in one breath. I wish. But anyway, the amount of stares one attracts while running in Belgravia and along the King's Road is hilarious. Little (well, some of them were) old ladies in their mink coats looking at you as if you've lost your mind, maids pushing their perambulators with their little charges wrapped up safe from the wind and rain ignoring you, Chihuahuas in quilted coats sniffing your feet as you wait at a junction. It's all a barrel of laughs.
But why do I bother with this? Keeping fit? Wanting to conform to an image that I can barely squeeze into? I should be pumping iron so that I can pummel my neighbours who think stomping up and down the flat at 7 in the morning is all in a day's work.
The social scene has gone mad too this week, so why am I complaining? Maybe it is good that stuff has been resolved last weekend so I can look forward to this without thinking and wondering. It's strange how everything always falls flat on its face when I realise I've been an idiot, just when I thought I might have a conclusion.
But I do enjoy my life like this. I love having the freedom of watching a play, an opera, a movie, as and when I feel like it. I love the feeling of settling down for bedtime with my writing, knowing that no matter what, I will at least have an extra line on the page compared with when I started. I relish having the opportunity to traipse off to NYC for the weekend at the drop of a hat. Am I ready to give up this freedom? Why do I seek to shackle myself to somebody when it is clear that I am having so much fun?
Maybe it's the little things that we ought to satisfy ourselves with. I finished my coursework more than a day early. I wrote a scene which I thought was stunning. I watched a cool movie in the form of Batman (Burton never disappoints!). I could run for a few more minutes longer than the last time I tried. I have many things to look forward to this weekend. The sun now sets at a civilised hour.
Whispers in the Wind
3rd March 2006
First off: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GRACE! You're a doll and I love you loads and loads (and loads more if tomorrow night turns out to be really cool!).
And so it has begun. All the little looks thrown, all the uncomfortable stares, all the slight smiles nudging at your consciousness as people start talking. So far what I have heard is through an intermediate source, but who knows how long control can be maintained over a situation. It is a sign of cowardice or strength that even with the benefit of Dutch courage that omissions rather than actions rule the course of the day?
Maybe it's like the weather currently plaguing the South-East of the country: snow flurries that have not the guts to stick on surfaces? Yet it still keeps snowing.
The more I think about it, the more I feel that something needs to be done. It's an evil situation to be in, I realise, but the more I think about it, the stupider I think I'm being. Should I say something, shouldn't I, should I, shouldn't I? That said, the first person who gives me a flower will get a good shouting at.
Maybe it's worth breaking the trend (and the silence). Or maybe I should just sink into oblivion.
Oooh I've just realised too that I haven't posted any pictures of beautiful Barna, so here's the first Gaudí building, the concert hall bathed in momentary sunshine!
It's a riot of laughs and colours alright.
Something is in the Air
1st March 2006
And it is not singing. In fact, it feels more like the fall of the inevitable hammer which reminds us that whatever we've done isn't quite enough to wash away certain parts. It's a handy opportunity to take a good look at our lives and stop running away from the obvious and that maybe it's time to come in from the self-imposed exile.
And no, I'm not talking about my insane and inexplicable crush over Niles. Although the man is such a sweetheart that I might have to put my name in the queue to marry him. Even though I know he's ridiculously in love with Daphne. Oh dear, it's happening. First getting fuzzy from watching a TV show, and then before I know it I am attending weddings and christenings. It's scary having grown-up friends and being the absolute child of the group! While everybody is pacing and fishing about trying to get their partners to marry them, I'm sitting around pretending to be sympathetic.
Also, March is supposed to portent spring, not bring about snow showers as you're trying to cross the Thames.
Home-Proud
27th February 2006
Is it a sign that you get all excited and proud about showing people 'your city' as a tourist would never see it? Does this mean you have found a place where you have found someplace where you have vaguely assimilated yourself into, even for the briefest moment in the stitches of time and space?
But at the moment the city doesn't stop buzzing, and Events don't leave you alone.
Attack of the Gremlins
20th February 2006
Why is my computer acting so stupid?
And why do I have to end up finding stupid excuses to sit and stare until I realise there's been a jump in the fabric of the universe, and it's 2 hours later?
Altogether Now.....
18th February 2006
Happy in Barna
15th February 2006
Well, having decided to run off to Barcelona for 4 days in the middle of the week I have not one, but two pieces of coursework, something called a script deadline, and 2 plays to read, I can barely complain. Yet, maybe it's true that some people do thrive on stress, and that we only peak when harassed and hassled. Like those HSBC advertisements, which is it: good for pushing ourselves to the limit, or bad for mental health?
Anyhow, it seems that every other city around the corner, just those 2 hours in a tin-can away, are amazing in some way or another. The culture, the language, the history, all these conspire to flip our heads round and make us struggle to find some kind of reference. Each time I am thrown into a new country, I find it preposterous that somebody could be surrounded by a different tongue and yet remain so woefully illiterate.
But much as I would love to postulate and fill the world with my junk, I fear a little statute in the form of a Deer Act is braying for my attention. It remains to be seen how much more exciting than prerogative powers that will be.
Oooh, and it seems increasingly likely that a trip across to Vienna by rail is on the cards -- huzzah!
Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock
3rd February 2006
I wonder why I have been thinking so much about time recently. Does taking that step from being a teen into your adult life make so much of a difference? Perhaps the scariest thing that has happened is the number of baby photographs being flashed at me of late. I love you girls so much, but all this constant talk about babies really scares me, but then again, who am I to speak, being the young 'un and the free 'un. Maybe I will start feeling differently when I am in your position. Who knows?
So much has changed. I used to think of myself as normal, as domestic, as yearning to be one of the millions who blend into the background. I got upset, I shed tears, I despaired at not fitting in with the populous. But remove that expectation, and so much falls away. You shed the baggage, you throw away the shackles binding you, you laugh, you stop crying, you teach another the joys of your company. I used to believe that I could be happy with a simple life; I used to mull over the prospect of sitting in the front seat of a family car, a child cradled to my knees, riding along the steamy tropical night along the highway back to the in-laws; I used to think of so many possibilities. All that has fled, none of it remains, and I could never find contentment in that again.
Allegedly, art is pain. It takes a formerly solicitous child and turns it into a surly adult, it takes a bird with wings and turns it into a butterfly.
Today was supposed to be a relaxing day and a work day. Yet after I finished a couple of tutes (yes I am still worrying about those), the rest of the time disappeared into a marathon run of being glued to the screen. Spending an entire day at home for the first time in more than 6 weeks is such a scary feeling; I can almost feel the dry rot start to seep into my bones.
Also managed to get the place on the programme I was dying to get onto. Most people think (as would I) that it is an indication of my talent, of what I have in me, and even when I try to explain the truth (that I only got it through a speedy response and being lucky enough to have Daddy pay for this place I have), they laugh and tell me I am being modest. But how does one be modest about being born into a privileged life? How do you tell them that you have never worried about debts and antibiotics in your meat because you buy organic?
Time is chasing after us all, as Hook undoubtedly knows. How old were giants when they first started forging the foundations of their Names? How did they battle the inanities of procrastination and unfulfilled potentials? Does it take a special person who is able to wrestle them aside and laugh into the wind?
We are born to a world of Choices, but we never see them until they blow away with the wind, out of our grasp, out of our reach.
The World Whizzes Us By
27th January 2006
Isn't it scary how quickly a week passes by? Sitting in a lecture, turning your head to look at the clock, you often wonder why it isn't about to end. Then you wake up one day, and you're old.
Another thing I've discovered is that I'm going blind -- heeeeellpp!! Why does the computer always end up being a black hole, sucking all your time into it and never spitting it back out?
Am waiting to hear news whether I've secured a place on a programme I really want to be a part of. Yet, have I been a complete fool for not calling up earlier to check that I have indeed been put into the running for it? Or have I been cool for deciding to let Royal Mail decide whether my letter goes through?
But anyhow here are some more pictures of Budapest. Am going to Birmingham in a bit, but somehow doubt I'll get any photographs like these!
Welcome to Eastern Europe, circa 1960.
And back to Habsburg Glory again.
Ooooh and I have a new phone! =)
The glory is made sweeter by it being free. Hehe.
Hungary and Back Again
22nd January 2006
Waking up at 3 in the morning, stumbling about with last-minute additions to your bag, rolling down the stairs into the waiting taxi, arriving at Victoria Coach Station to fall onto the waiting bus, slumping in the seat as you make your way through the deserted streets of London, whizzing along to Luton, sighing your way through the ridiculous queue, raising your eyebrows as your flight gets called for last-minute boarding, gasping into the last rows of the plane as the doors shut behind you, dozing as jet fuel is propelled into engines, flinging across the skies of an unsettled Europe.
Budapest is an experience. Especially when caught from the bone-rattling ride on the local bus service right through the terminal end of the Metro line. Graffiti licks the walls, remnants of a people's repugnance against an ideology rammed down their throats; shop fronts remain glued to the moment the Iron Curtain fell. Yet, relics from a time before the world went to war persist, pock-marked with shrapnel and bullet-holes; the stone lion is weeping after being stitched together again. The Ottomans, the Hasburgs, the Nazis, the Communists, the Socialists, all in the long-line of capricious leaders eager to call this stalwart city on the Danube their own, leaving their marks in a hodgepodge of metal and stone.
Bygone era of the Ottomans.
Tourists do not venture away from the Castle District, and it is a relief that no other person is in sight around the Turkish District, that nobody ruins the experience of Gül Baba's final resting ground, that you are free to amble down the uneven snow-dusted cobblestones, only your own compulsion pushing you forward.
The smog lifts, and the hazy outlines of neo-gothic architecture start to take on more definition. Colours take on a sharper hue, the buildings bask in its golden winter light; silent guardians which do not spit out their tales.
A continent wrecked with guilt, many answers are being sought for the atrocities committed in the name of ethnic and class cleansing. More die, more are born, statues slapped together, torn down, preserved with plastic sheets, filled in with new plaster. Questions are still unanswered, victims demand an explanation; suffering and pain is never far behind their stoic faces.
An apology for past atrocities.
The plane bounces its way across the cold front sweeping in to cover the continent, pulling up at the terminal. London calls us home again.
Close Encounters of the Eerie Kind
13th January 2006
Thanks, Mum for challenging my confident delusion about the world. What is it about humans that makes us so prone to believing in life beyond what we know? Why does the doubt start nibbling away at us and make us question what we think about our own structured little worlds. It is terrifying to watch her tethering on the edge, becoming increasingly spiritual but trying to rationalise it.
Equally bizarre, perhaps, is the process of forgetting. How can one have no recollection of events and facts, and to listen to other people recount your words back at you. No Freud, please, but why does that happen?
Perhaps it's nothing mystical, but instead a manner of perspective. Of course I'm not discounting the possibility of the fabric of life, that everything is somehow connected (required by millennia of evolution?).
Existentialist, schmelist. As the (now female!) preacher on Oxford Circus says: and carry on your meaningless existence. Yes, please.
Air Harrods, Anybody?
10th January 2006
Just when you think things cannot get more ridiculous, does anybody want a ride in on chartered Air Harrods flight to South Lodge or my home on the Riviera?
Then again, maybe not. What I have discovered, though is the loveliest tea in the world, also known as White Darjeeling. Although 2005 was a bad year for the poor Darjeeling crop (oh just blame it all on our whipping boy global warming, why don't you?), it beats any type of green tea hands down. And did I mention it has more anti-oxidants?
My new best friend amongst its newfound friends soy sauce and ground black pepper.
And before you reach for the phone to get me committed to the nearest mental institution, the shopping never ends, with the latest purchase: pyjamas!
Pretty in Pink!
Finally, I know I resolved not to get so easily annoyed, but surely having a go at Ken Livingstone is allowed? Please? Honestly where else can you find trains which are older than Livingstone's grandfather, laced with dirt which predate them even, where people faint due of the lack of ventilation every summer ('we're working to solve this problem'; likely story), go on strike over rotas, and still manage to charge £3 per single trip?
That said, diss the tube and feel my wrath. Yes, I am strangely loyal to the utter wretchedness of London that way.
Especially when the tube is that excellent transport form to ferry me and my shopping from one end of the city to the other.
X'mas Shopping Is Good For You!
8th January 2006
Huzzah to the phenomenon that is the X'mas sale. Nothing else brings further joy to my heart that 'Further Reduction' signs in shop displays! =) Why I never wait until this moment to do all the mad shopping is quite beyond me, but then again life would be pithily boring without the option of retail therapy and feeling a hole being burned into your pocket as punch in your PIN or sign that slip of paper. Worse yet is probably the keying in of the Credit Card number and the clicking of the mouse -- online shopping doesnÕt shut down on Sundays due to trading laws.
The Loot (or part thereof): isn't it pretty? =)
Signs of Death
7th January 2006
Before I start: HAPPY NEW YEAR to everybody! Let's hope it's filled with cracking good fun and games and laughter.
3 weeks without touching a computer, and guess what, I'm still alive! It's strange how you learn to live without it. Contact and socialising should be made by picking up a phone and dialling a few numbers, not facebooking or msn-ing (love how they've become verbs, don't you?).
Have also been thinking about the latest discovery of a Mersenne prime number. 9.1 million digits long, just 1 million short of the 10 million jackpot of $100,000. Seems really ironic to me that these poor academics would do better to appear on Survivor for 10 times that sum, and not spend 10 years and 900 computers on it. Honestly, if anybody were to complain about wasting resources and global warming, surely spending the power of 900 super-computers trying to figure out which 10 million digit number is indivisible can hardly be said to be a good use of resources.
Watching a few films too have made me think a bit about the point of going into the corporate world, being absolutely buzzed up and knackered the whole time, before crashing to bed at 2 in the morning, with no time to enjoy and no time to spend. It's such a trap that people fall into, and how many are able to walk away? Yet is saving the world a valid alternative? Looking at human nature, I'd say not!
If anything, somebody should be thinking up a way of making plane flights shorter, more bearable, and less painful. Oh, and some snow instead of rain will be nice too.
So, here's my wishlist for 2006: to start playing tennis or something equivalent on a regular basis, to stop dragging my feet and actually get some writing done, to have a good laugh, and to stop letting Boris bug me so much. Is that too much to ask? We'll see.
Oh, and X'mas sales are the best! =)
