Hubris.co.nz

So today I had my doctor’s appointment and I thought it might be weird to have to tell someone new about my mental history, but as it turns out she’d googled me and had the citalapram waiting on her desk when I walked in.

Okay, so that’s not strictly true (or even vaguely true at all), but she did give me a prescription without me having to cry (much), and I get a subsidised script for citalapram because I told her I can’t take fluoxetine. Well, technically I could but the bourbon necessary to deal with that would probably not fit in too well with my plan to not drink for a while. She took my blood pressure and it turns out that it’s now 140/100 – remember how it was 131/99 last time and THAT was high? Yeah. So tomorrow I’m going for fasting blood tests and pee tests and all sorts of fun things like that in case my kidneys are packing up instead of it just being stressed. Apparently there’s also something that can send stress into your body if it’s fucked up, so that could be interesting to find out if maybe it’s my physical health that’s fucked instead of my mental health. While going over my depression history before I filled in the depression survey and discovered I was circling the 3s on almost every list, I told her that I wasn’t in as bad a condition as I have been the past when I’ve signed up for the crazy pills, and she was like “you don’t have to justify yourself to me”. Well, she didn’t say that, but then we talked about early intervention and blah blah, and she also warned me of the likelihood of increased anxiety in the early stages (wahoo!) and said that I needed to be on the lookout for suicidal feelings. This is why the modern world is so fucked – in order to avoid getting to the stage where I feel like I might want to harm myself I need to take a drug that comes with the risk of increasing the wanting-to-harm-myself impulses. But hey, I dealt with that okay when it happened in March 2003, and I’m sure I can do it again with Tom on speed dial and KateH just five minutes drive away. Oh no wait…

Ha, sorry, I suppose this sort of thing is inappropriate for me to be making jokes about, but come on, it’s me – when have I ever been appropriate? I have all the shiny knowledge, pamphlets, plans to call the work-provided counsellor on Monday and most importantly the motivation to not be like this anymore that I need to defend myself, which makes me practically Harry Potter. And also some Danielle Steele books and movies of the ’80s teen genre to fill in the time until I feel okay again. Plus, thanks to Lisa, I have new craft projects to fill my time. I’m not huge with the wanting to talk to people right now, because it makes my chest hurt thinking about it, so I’ve decided she doesn’t qualify as a person. Instead, she’s an Awesomeness. Last night she brought over milk and cookies and paint, and we made art inspired by magazines. Her piece, which has been called Oh Penelope is fucking awesome. My art talent? Not so much so hot. So instead I created a quadtich which is a celebration of celibacy.

HPV

Chlamydia

Gonorrhea

Genital Herpes

That’s so Jane. Heh. And if I hadn’t used up all our gig of bandwidth this month watching Dick in a box over and over again, I could download the photos that Lisa kindly took for me of my art, since of course I’m still cameraless and have yet to suggest to Brad that he hire a panda costume to go over to Aro and get it for me. If it’s even there and not in the taxi. If I did leave it in the taxi, it’s probably fair payment for me yelling at the driver after Chrisana got out about how the taxi driver two nights before had fucking groped me. And about how fucking angry that made me. New year’s resolution: only take blue taxis from now on.

Today Lisa and I went to op shops in Newtown to find frames and then tried to eat at the Medditereaneaneanean Warehouse, but the bastard was still shut, so we settled for Hell at her house, and I made myself feel better about my own life by watching House of Carters in absolute shock and disgust and confusion about why the fuck they could possibly ever want to put their lives on TV. Their father is so clearly a child molestererer. And yes, I laughed my ass off at one of the daughter’s stories about how her mother told her she was goign to horse-riding camp but then had her kidnapped and sent to Fat Camp because she couldn’t make any money for the family as a fat kid. Oh yes, Karma and I still need to have a cuddle and make up at some stage. Then we watched more bad TV, and came here to watch Say Anything, because really, who doesn’t want John Cusack standing under their window with a ghetto blaster? Exactly!

Now at some stage I might try to go to sleep, but to be honest, I’m waiting for City Life, because haha! And besides, everyone needs a late night TV addiction while they’re waiting for the drugs to start working. I had 90210 in 2001 (not to mention September 11 coverage), and then Buffy in 2002. At least I’m keeping it home-styles now. But tomorrow I will endevour to get up before noon, so I can get these blood tests out of the way. Wahoo, needles!

This reader emailed me on Sunday to ask if I was dead, and I wrote back that I was, and it didn’t feel too far from the truth at that stage. Yes, I had another mini breakdown. Yes I am okay now. I went to see Dr White today, and we’re bumping me up to 30mg of cipramil instead of 20mg for a bit. Also, Kalpana had called her (I okayed that) and told her that I was doing really really well and had responded heaps to the therapy, which is true, and also why it was so weird that I should have such an extreme relapse. Oh well. I’ve written enough about it elsewhere.

Right now I am home totally alone for the first time in ages, and it’s LOVELY. Johnny is at work, Lance and Ammy are at Darren’s having dinner with Annoying Jonny, Daniel is at some journo meeting and umm, yeah, that’s four, that’s all my flatmates. Bo’s moved out to Milton cos the rent was much much cheaper there, and it’s just up the road. I am waiting for a purple sleeping pill to kick in. Dr White almost laughed at me today when I said “and I know that you can’t give me a big prescription for sleeping pills…” but she gave me four days instead of two, which is lovely cos I am so fucking flat out exhausted. Depression is tiring business when it stops you from sleeping.

I’ve had a day and a half off work this week due to sickness, which means that I’m a little behind on my work. I have my story to do on the Prostitution Law Reform bill in which I talk to three sex workers to finish tomorrow, and I want to do a really really really brilliant job on it because I’m lucky to be in position to write it, knowing people in the industry. Oh yes, I have my finger in many pies. This issue also will have my story on the Australian band Taxiride. Jason Singh wants the world to know he does not sleep with teenage groupies. Heh.

What else? Lots of parties and events and gossip. One of the boys I fancy has a girlfriend, I found out. However, *1 has apparently moved to Auckland. I’d be more excited if I wasn’t dedicated to a life of celibacy. Sebastian has fleas but I’m feeding him garlic brewers’ yeast to get rid of it. Apparently that works. I also have to take him to the vet. Oh god, I’m a crazy old lady with cats already.

Thursday June 27th

I am so excited! I got my first official letter from an official lawyer complaing about something on Hubris today! At first I thought they was wanting to buy my domain name, but no! You can read about it here. Hehehehe. I am so amused, and proud. I always thought that my first legal problem would be with defemation of character, not product. I will be framing the letter. And also, I have bigger plans, maybe.

Other stuff today? I made a 5th year med student blush. Dr. White asked me if I minded if he sat in on my consultation, and I said that was fine, so he got to listen to me hear about my migraines, and my lack of history with them, and we discussed where I’d been in my pill cycle, and she thinks that it might be because when I started the sugar week, my body reacted cos it wanted more progestron. So if it happens next month again, then we’ll discuss me not taking the sugar pills (yay, no more bleeds! except for like, one a year to clean out my pipes). She gave me a quick examination and said that I had ideal eyes for looking at, so she got the med student to do it too – he took like ten minutes, which was rather uncomfortable. And then I told her that the evil mad attacks’o pain came on when I was masturbating, and she said that was probably due to a lack of oxygen going to my brain while he squirmed. That shouldn’t have amused me as much as it did, but you know, since i’m having to take drastic measures this whole week (no wanking! no drinking!) it’s the small things that count.

In the evening after work I had a top secret meeting, which was kinda interesting, but it means that I have top secret projects that I really should get around to doing sometime, suck. Oh, story from yesterday that I forgot to tell; when KateM and I were sitting in the Korean place, this big guy walked up to our table and leant over. From the way he was looking, I thought he was a friend of hers, so I wasn’t that surprised when he said “Will you marry me?” but she just shook her head and said “no, sorry”. Then he asked me, and I too said “no, sorry”. If only he’d asked me first, I would have, for sure, but who wants to be second best?

Do you think Bops would be upset if she came home and I’d eaten all of her instant oatmeal with apple and cinnamon that she raved about so much that i had to try? I guess she would. Poo.

Oh dear, I just cackled so loud over something i read that if anyone else was home, I would have woken them all up. I’d like to explain but I really can’t without debasing myself. Other things that have entertained me this week is my friend giving me back ‘the slut crown’ and asking me what my first act after my coronation will be. Pah, I’m giving it up. Again. Hmmm, did C 3.0 count if it only lasted like, umm 2 weeks from my decision? Let’s call this C 3.1. Cool.

Tuesday June 25th

Just before midnight, that thing in my head snapped again, and the entire left side of my head started to throb and pulsate and ache ache ache. The pain was incredible, I hadn’t felt its like except for on Saturday and Sunday nights as well. I couldn’t take it anymore. I sat up in bed and cried for about fifteen minutes wondering how badly it would scare my mother if I’d rung her at that hour. My head was really freaking me out, and I needed it to stop. It’s kinda terrifying to feel like a blood vessel has burst in your brain. Bopha was fast asleep with two exams the next day, and Clay wasn’t home, so I ended up canvassing opinions via txt, until someone agreed with me that yes, maybe I should go to the hospital since I’d been in pain for three days and it wasn’t getting any better – in fact, it was getting worse (and I know I don’t say enough good things about you sometimes, so thank you, I’m so glad to know you’re always there for me when I’m having a crisis, and you know I’m always there for you too, if you need me). I woke Bops because I had no money for a taxi, and she offered to come with me, but I said she shouldn’t, because I knew we’d end up waiting hours and hours, and because I was crying and in pain to the point where I could hardly talk, and because of her exams. I managed to scrape together $5 in coins, which was just enough.

I felt so fucking stupid, telling hte guy at the counter that I had “a headache” because it sounds so goddam prissy and lame, but he was very nice and told me that three days was an extreme length of time, and he called me sweetheart in a really nice way. He took me to a room in the ER and left me there for ages, which I understand cos I know they have to prioritize. I held my head in my hands and felt nauseous, and listened to the staff calling for diazaphan for the guy in the room next to me who was having fits. That made me feel kind of like a fraud, but there is only so much pain and misery a girl can take. It was a fucking hard call to make though, having to take enough responsibility for myself to seek treatment. Meh. Eventually a nice nurse called Jayne came along and took me to another room, and gave me a wristband with my name and phone number on it, and told me to get undressed and put on one of those funny hospital gowns. I’d be expecting them to just shine a light in my eyes and tell me I was pathetic and wasting their time, so I was like “umm, you have the right piece of paper right? I’m here with a headache?” and she laughed at me. Once I’d changed, she told me to lie down on a half propped up bed, took my blood pressure and pulse, turned out the lights and said the doctor would be in to see me soon. I think it must have taken about an hour for him to get to me, in which time I just cried like the big sooky girl I am, because it hurt, and because I was lonely and because I just wanted my mum. I really wished that there was someone who I could have called to go with me, that I wouldn’t have felt bad about asking, and so I decided that I need to have kids as soon as possible cos I figure by the time they’re 15, they can drive me and also, they’ll be completely obligated to me and everything, so I won’t need to feel guilty, and they’ll be matyred to me. And yeah, I know that when my darling friends read this, they’ll all be like “you could have called me” but how do you call someone at 12am and say “hi, I have a headache, can you please get up and come to the hospital and wait a couple of hours with me?” It just doesn’t work like that. Still, Auckland Hospital is a scary horrible place to be alone in. It was miserable and I considered putting my clothes back on and running away, except that it wouldn’t have been running, it would have been a very slow, very painful crawl, and I would still be worried about what exactly was going on inside my skull.

Eventually the doctor came and examined me and asked me all the same questions that the nurse had asked me. He said that everything seemed fine, but that I had done the right thing to come in, and he told me that I didn’t have meningitis, which hadn’t even crossed my mind. He said that although I had no history of them, it might just be a particularly violent migraine, and said he would work through levels of pain relief with me, from basics, to heavier, to hooking me up to a drip and keeping me in overnight if need be. This meant sending in a nurse with panadol and voltarin and a glass of milk which she ordered me to drink to counteract the nasty stomach munchingness of voltarin, and leaving me for half an hour “to get some sleep”. Righto. I started tripping out, and could feel the pain in my head breaking free and floating loose, and then working its way into a little knot by my eye. What the fuck is it with hospitals and their fucking panadol? It’s like the time when I got hit by a car and they gave me panadol, only this time i wasn’t drunk and abusive, and I wasn’t inflicting hours of waiting torture on James and Maree. Anyways, finally my doctor came back to re-evaluate me. He said he was happy to keep me in overnight, but he thought that I’d probably sleep better at home and that was what would probably do the best for me, as long as he gave me some more pain relief before I went. Knowing that I had an exam in six and a half hours time, I agreed with him, so he dosed me up on straight codeine, wrote me out a script for some more, ordered me to see my GP as soon as possible for follow-up and gave me a piece’o paper detailing my tragic story.

Of course, I’d used up all my coins on the taxi to get to the hospital, and in my zonked state, I decided that it would be a good idea to walk home. When I left the hospital I thought the moon was half full – by the time I got over the Grafton Bridge, it was full, and I was by the graveyard and I kept seeing things and I couldn’t feel my legs anymore because of the 60mg of codeine. Things were a little odd, to say the least. The sky was really clear, and all the branches were ghostly, and I was doped off my tits, and yeah, fun times. At least my headache had subsided to a dull roar though. It was 3am by that stage, and then I woke up at 4am when the drugs wore off and my head was screaming again and my chest cavity felt like my ribs were all imploding. Odd.

So of course, there was extreme lack of sleep, and residual dopiness from the codeine, and the headache was back as soon as I got up this morning, so I had to take more nurofen plus. I would have been bouncing off the walls if I wasn’t reduced to sliding along the floor. In my exam, it took me fifteen minutes to be able to focus enough to copy down the question to the top of my page, and that really really fucked me off. I did an appalling job, and I’m really upset, because I could have done so much better. I know my LTSA topic inside out, and I’d done well on going through the other stuff too, ducking in between major migraineness, but I was so vague and blurry and doped just to try and get rid of the fucking pain. I went to fill out compassionate consideration forms straight after, but they’ll only allow me a “pass” which I think I might just get anyways, not an actual indication of the good mark that I could have got if it wasn’t for all this bullshit.

After the exam, I went to pick up my prescription – more codeine and voltarin, lovely. Everyone from my Persuasive Class was meeting at The Playhouse for lunch and drinking so I went along, spaced out and only able to drink coke. But the girl I dislike more than anyone kept screeching in my ear, and I was fading fast after the quick pickup of pills, so I went home, told Clay that I couldn’t talk because I wasn’t coherant, and slept for four hours. When I got up, there were concerned phonecalls from Maz and a bigass gorgeous lovely bunch of flowers from KateH, stark contrast to being alone and miserable in a hospital bed. They also came over really briefly, and Kate told me she’d deliberatly asked for Serene, Calming flowers. Awww. I’m looking forward to my party on Saturday, especially since I’ve had to forsake alcohol today and BradC and Clay are currently drinking Soju in honour of Korea/Germany. I’m also foresaking hte soccer as well, because I just can’t handle. I’m so fragile and fucked, and if I move my head, it hurts. Arrgh. At least I get to go home to my mum next Wednesday.

I guess any day that starts with a woman in rubber gloves painfully inserting things into you can only get better.

So yesterday, after I got home from the doctor’s (I only got a “down below” check as she put it, rather than blood taken for Hep C and HIV, not because I have a fear of needles – in fact, I freakishly kinda like watching my blood being taken – but just because) I went and took a nap, and I actually fell into a really really deep sleep. I put this down to the fact that I’ve been getting an average of 5 hours a night lately, which is not enough to sustain me. I know that it was a deep sleep because i had very very vivid dreams, that started with me inviting Dr. White home for a cup of tea because I thought she was lonely. I won’t go into all the details, but it ended up that there was a rave at my house, and then in the dream I woke up and thought it was all a dream and it went on and on and on. Yeah.

When I woke up for real though, I had such a sore throat, so I complained mightily about it to Clayt when he got home – “Claaaaaaaaay, my throat is sore! Claaaaaaay, my vagina is sooooooore! I’m supposed to go out tonight but I won’t be able to do ANYTHING like this waaaaah”. He sympathized with me as much as possible. Poor Clay; I’m sure he has daydreams about having a flatmate with a lower level of self disclosure. But anyways. Shirley came over from her last day of work, all bubbly and happy, bringing with her Lemsip for my throat and red wine to heal my other aching body bits, and KateH came over as well and we listened to excellent music and chatted. Eventually we rang the King’s Arms to see what order the bands were playing and they laughed at me for telling the bar man that he was a wonderful person when he went and asked for me.

We got in a taxi and went there and met up with KateH’s flatmate Karin (okay, maybe her name is spelt Karen – i’m not sure, but if I call her Karen then you might get confused with my sister, so I’m damn well gonna call her Karin and if you have a problem with that, well that’s just too damn bad). We sat in the garden while Handsome Geoffry were playing, because of course we were really there to see The Heavy Jones Trio. Mmmmmmmmm I’ve got such a rockstar crush. Kelly’s just so completely adorable and he was doing a little sideways kick thing instead of the knee jiggle, and it was just so endearing, like a little puppy. Oh that voice and that soul! I don’t think I have any interest in meeting him because that just wouldn’t be the same. Plus, as I said to Annabel, I’m far cooler on screen than in real life (and this is where my detractors say “but you’re not at all cool onscreen” and where i say back “then why are you reading me?”). Golden Horse afterwards were good too, but by that stage I was too busy laughing at the very camp guy hitting on Shirley.

After the Kings Arms, we taxied to Lovely Paul’s house, where there was supposed to be a party, but we just found them all watching David Blane Magician videos being completly in awe. Justin rang my cellie then, and told me he was at a party around the corner from my house, where I’d been to a party before after my 21st adn they’d told me they were Norwegian porn stars, so Shirley and I got yet another taxi and went over there. The party was actually one house up from the Norwegian Porn Star House, which just meant that I’ve got around more of my street, which is excellent. It took ages to find out who actually lived there, but that was alright, cos when I did meet him, he was very nice and also very cute, and he’s gonna come to our next party. Brilliant. Also in attendence at the party were KateM, and Jason (oh look, adreniline rush!) and JeremE <!– oh my god he has a billion dollar smile when he saw me –>which was cool, so I met lots of new people who were all very nice, even if there was one guy who was off on some tangent about something to do with chickens that I couldn’t follow. For a while I felt a little 15 again, off giggling in a corner with Shirley and KateM cos they hadn’t seen each other in ages. But then I smoked a lot of pot, and it was cool. Shirley left around 1amish, since we were right around the corner from my house so I gave her the key and she went and slept in Clay’s room. I stayed til some time after 4, cos it was all peaceful and mellow, sitting around laughing and listening to PJ Harvey for ages and ages. So that was cool.

I had an excellent excellent sleep which makes me think that i really should smoke pot more often perhaps, and then Shirley woke me some time around 7am to say goodbye. I went back to sleep until KateM rang me for a gossip and catch up. She told me that she’d spent hours that night talking to the boy I fancy, alternating between praising me to the high heavans and warning him not to treat me badly and saying it was all or nothing. Awww, how sweet of her! She apologised cos she said maybe she’d been a little over the top. I know a huge part of it was residual frustration from a couple’o years ago when everyone wanted to yell at a particular person but I asked them all not to cos the repercussions just wouldn’t have been worth it. And so far today all that I’ve done was start to watch “Enemy at the Gates” but it seemed too gruelling, even for Jude Law and what is apparently one of the best onscreen sex scenes. So I’ll go watch “The End of the Affair” now and see if I can find someone to go out to dinner with.

I accomplished a great deal today.

Monday April 9th, 2001

My ISP is being a gimp. Gimp isp, gimp! I reckon Lou’s bosses should ensure that she has dsl at home, but apparently they have other priorities. Sheesh!

Today was all about working very hard scripting. That’s not computer scripting, oh no. Well, it kinda was, cos I had to format my CBT script so that it’ll work properly in Scala. Scala is dumb.

I listened to “My Body the Handgrenade” at work today, which is like a collection of b-sides and rarities by Hole, and it made so much more sense now after that biography of Courtney Love that I read. Listening to it, I felt like the BDO 99 was just yesterday, that somehow I managed to skip the past two years, which wouldn’t necessarily be such a bad thing, although I wouldn’t be who I am today. I feel very old – “Smells Like Teen Spirit” which is unquestionable the most important song to people in my generation came out TEN YEARS ago. TEN! Wow.

I’ve made an appointment to go and see Dr. White tomorrow and get my smear, and get a full STD screen (I don’t think I have anything, I just want to be 100% certain) and talk to her about my nutrition and stuff. Fun fun. Also today I’ve been coughing a dry shallow pathetic cough, so maybe she can see to that too.

Last night I traumatised Leigh by pasting bits out of a story I wrote when I was 15 to him – “Angela felt his hands slide up and down her back. She had to clutch at his shoulders, thinking of a line from Gone With the Wind – “Now I know why men put their arms around a woman when they kiss them; it’s so they don’t faint”. She was walking on air.” True story too. I just wrote it in the third person to get a new perspective, according to my diary at the time. Though what wisdom I’d learn from “Angela was leaning on him more and more. Then he spoke. “We’re lying on a flower pot,” he said regretfully” is beyond me. Still, five years from now, I’ll probably look back on what I’m writing these days and scoff.

Oh for fucks sake, how hard is it to get a line into the Net???

I feel good today because I just had a really nice long bath. I put my legs up in the air and fully submerged my head. I love the sound of being underwater. I also feel good cos I told Clay and Louise that I wanted to do separate food from them (and phrased it a little more diplomatically than “I’m tired of subsidising your animal products and your girlfriend”)

OH! I also got a pay cheque today, and that was very very nice.

AND! I was in Mt Eden for lunch, and I walked past one place after inspecting the menu, and this guy came out, and he was like “don’t you strut away from me” and I was thinking “sheesh, overboard waiter!” but it was my friend Derek, who I haven’t seen in like a year, so that was very cool. He was like “wow girl, look at you – whatever happened to the flower skirts?” which made me blush and smile. He’s doing advertising with Kate B this year, which means I can get her to slip him notes. Wahoo. And then when I was eating my lunch which was Malaysian noodles, Kate M rang me on my cellularmaphone and said she was in Mt Eden also, so we met up. She was a little scared and felt like she didn’t know what she was doing – I tried pointing out many times that it was only her first day.

The company I work for shouted morning tea for all 400 of us on campus today for going 100 days without an accident.

you see, the ting is…

It’s cold, but not as cold as it has been, and I’m feeling quite snug. I have also just finished my last assignment – designing a business card, advertisement and another cd cover. My ad was for a rave called “Olympia” and it featured a 3D logo typa thing. I made up dj names for it, so there was DJ Twin, cos I was talking to Shirley on the phone, Fork, Spook, and then I started looking around my desk for Molko, Bik, and Korma. Oh and Colour By Numbers, which was an allusion to the number thing I was reading Shirley at the time as well.

Why is it that whenever I’m brokest I go shopping? Maree and I went to St. Lukes today (I rang her – she was like “I was just about to call you, only I thought ‘no, must not call joanna, must study, must not call joanna’ “) so that we could find birthday presents for Shirley, but instead I found myself buying a pressie for Kini, because when I saw it I knew she had to have it, and I love her lots and stuff. And Maree convinced me I needed more foundation, and I DID need saline solution, and a budget hoodie, so I was well served. Except of course, for not getting Shirley a pressie. I will have to look again tomorrow. Oh, we also cut Maree a key, so now Kimmy Gibbler can come over whenever she wants. And she can house-sit for us.

Our ad in the Herald rang today, but only one guy rang about the flat, and he seemed put off by the fact that there’d be four of us in the house. Go figure. He sounded boring anyway. We still have ads up at uni and AUT, and will have a couple in the trade and exchange coming out on Monday, but it just seems like a lost cause really. I’m stressed, yes, but Brad is calm, and it’s him that’s going to be left here alone whilst Clay and I trot off on our holidays. Although of course, Maree will be around. She’s driving me mad lately calling me “cutie cutie cutie”. Apparently she thinks the number of guys that I have slept with is extremely cute. I’m not sure I agree with her, but I guess the fact that I’ve uncontrollably started sucking my thumb doesn’t help much either. Brad keeps on laughing at me for that too. And if Clayton was ever home, he probably would as well. Man, I’ve become such a target for ridicule! It’s just not fair!!!!!

Three more sleeps to go! I am very very excited, as you can imagine I would be. Our house is such a pigstye right now – I dont’ know whether I should clean it before I go or not. Brad reckons this is our equilibrium, half way between the mess of Simon, and the clean of Thomas. Gosh, I quote an awful lot of other people, don’t I? Oh yeah, I wanted to quote this too:

From: “Peter Mahoney”
Date: June 14, 2000 7:37:20 AM EDT
To: Joanna McLeod

“Peter and Kate M were discussing my journal tonight at the bar, cos they’re both sometimes readers. ”

Sometimes readers? I’m so desparate for human connection these days that I actually got on the net tonight *just* to see if you’d added anything new to your journal.

Heh. It’s always nice when there are people sadder than me. I still haven’t fixed my desk chair. I’ve stolen a dining room chair instead. Oh, remind me to ring Dr. White tomorrow and reassure her that I’m still alive. And I must ring Penny and invite her for saturday, and do some more laundry, and write a packing list. My life is very exciting, as you can see. Yaaaaaaaaaaaay I turned in my report on my cd rom today. Brad had lent me his laptop last night so I could work on it in the lurve tent. Damn I wanna laptop now. I felt so New Media. If only it was an ibook. Right, I’m just rambling now. I should stop. Okay.

Oooh I got my first birthday card yesterday, from Karen – it was one of those square cards that I really dig, and it had a picture of a girl on it, and the words “Drama Queen”. Bitch!