Oh dear

I've turned into one of those insanely successful people who win everything.

God I hate those people.

(I don't hate winning Christ Church Regatta, though. Not even a little bit. AAAAH!)

Holding out for a Hero

Crazy, masochistic week of drama was rewarded with places on two award shortlists!

We are the awesome. Fear our win.

In all seriousness

I am SO freakin' tired of myself. Everything is an internal battle. YAWN.

Life is over.

I will never be even a tiny part as talented as Alexander Petrov. What is the point of existence?

Oh, by the way, I'm miserable and mucusy again. Wahey!

You know that feeling...

Where you find something which you already know is going to be really bad, but it appalls you how bad it is just the same?

That's how I feel about this.

Must kan shu.

No more internets.

On the plus side, I got my groove back for now. No more morose whiny AJ for at least ten minutes.

I want to crawl inside something and die quietly.

Winter is poo.

emplooooyment

it is 4.00 and Waterstones have not called.

Why have they not called. Waterstones, why have you not called? I am not a happy bunny. Call. Give me a job. I will carry your books and you will pay me £900 and then I will live like a Queen for another semester. It'll be a match made in heaven.

I am floating in and out of reality.

Oh for heavens' sake.

Here we go again.

(Incidentally, if social skills were textbooks mine would not be written by Hal Varian. Make of that what you will; I personally am very depressed about it.)