still fat, still weird, still socially awkward

I would very like to write about how morose I am right now, but honestly it wouldn't achieve much except a slow slide for this blog back into all those damnable one-liners.

International Law is quite fun. In a weird way, so is singing Elliott Smith and feeling like an interpersonal failure.

Foodie 2 and essay dramz

Further to my last post, it appears that food is now taking over my life. I came home this afternoon knowing that I had a large quantity of chopped and nearly-rotten vegetables which needed cooking that very moment or else throwing away, and was thus cruelly forced to spend an hour of my life making a vegan-ish* Shepherd's Pie when all I really wanted to do was eat cold couscous and stress out over my essay... how is this even happening to me? It's like I've become some sort of... stereotypical woman, or something. I even realised that I was thinking of whether or not to go out tonight in terms of whether I would be finished cooking that evening. Fuck it.

At least the vegan-ish shepherd's pie is made now. And it looks pretty tasty. I emptied basically an entire thing of oregano into it, so it damn well better be tasty...

In other news, Descartes is killing me. Actually going to die of Descartes. I DON'T KNOOOW about this meditations shit and I need to write paragraphs with substance but I don't know what the substance is going to be so I just keep writing the first bit and then going on to the next one. And the final argument is just walking into a giant pitfall. Sigh. I want to go to the SSL and read all these International Law books like a real student, instead of just hanging around my bedroom all the time like a strange loser.

Now I have a blog, I can stop writing so many Facebook statuses. This is a start.

*Vegan-ish = it would be vegan if I'd got around to buying actual animal-free margarine yet. But I haven't.

Foodie

It has come to my attention that I am sliding very speedily down a slippery slope towards being a real live "foodie".

How this happened is slightly mysterious. I've spent 20 years of your life using kitchens for nothing more exciting than a simple pasta sauce. I cooked a total of 5 or 6 times on my gap year (restaurant food is SOOO GOOD and SOOO CHEAP in China). The biggest thing I made last year was a Mars Bar cheesecake. And yet, suddenly, I'm making meal plans and marinating foods. MARINATING. Incidentally, I did just look that up. Marinate is a verb, marinade a noun. I am officially marinating chicken in a tikka marinade. Oh, and when I say tikka marinade, I mean spices and juice I put into a bowl with chicken, not a bottle of stuff. I have also taken to buying beans and then SOAKING them and buying peanuts and SHELLING them in order to GRIND them in order to put them in a mixture with SPICES and make a food out of them... sure, that recipe was a slight disaster but the diagnosis remains the same. I am a foodie.

It gets worse. After getting back to the house at the beginning of this term, I decided to reorganise my stuff into one "small" corner of the cupboard. This small corner turned out, at the time, to be about a quarter of the cupboard that six of us officially share for putting non-refrigerated and non-canned foods in. Phased for but a second, I then went to Tesco's last week and ended up with another several bottles of different herbs and spices. Oh, and cider vinegar. And balsamic vinegar, and gram flour, and... you get the point. The point is that I have taken in a big way to Cooking, with a capital C. I have no idea how this happened, and I have no idea why other people don't do it, and therefore I am handling it in my usual gracious way of denying any sort of difficulty or oddity in the situation and just thinking other people are a bit pathetic for not being able to marinate food. (It's not actually that hard to marinate a food though. Just saying.)

This is, of course, going to get even faggier when my veganism kicks in for Lent, although I'm still cautiously optimistic about how well I'm going to cope with it. There are certainly plenty of recipes I can make, although it might descend into curry and potatoes by week 3... I cling to the hope that vegan chocolate will be awesome and tide me over.

What I learned at school today

Jonathan Bennett is FIT. Fit as. Not literally, as he's about 80, but philosophically the man is a god. I heart you, Jonny. If only I had the impetus to read your book for more than five minutes at a time. I wish I were determined this term that my notes will be clear ad detailed, but I just know this will only last two weeks. It takes a very long time to be detailed.

I am reclaiming this blog again from all the whining and one-line entries. That's why this entry will have at least two lines, as proved by this sentence (at least it was until I added some more stuff to the above paragraph). Ideally, I would like to write a blog where I chat lucidly and wittily about all those wacked out philosophical and political things that I tend to wax lyrical to confused housemates about, but I don't think that's ever realistically going to happen. Time and indolence make a fool of me where writing is concerned. Never mind.

I am, as always, tired of knowing better and the fact that people know I know better. For someone half as smart &c. Self-awareness be damned, I'll listen to my music through these fabulous speakers whenever the mood takes me.

suppressant

because the thing is, when you suppress your inhibitions you don't make up new stuff, you just let existing stuff leave. That's why it's so embarrassing the next day- everybody knows that you meant everything you said, you just didn't mean to say it.

There is no escape from living and there is no way back from self-awareness and there is no changing facts.

Love

Is a sadness with a face.

It's like fireworks

Fizz fizz. Yeah?

One bump away from blades. COME ON.

I am in my third decade

So you would think I would be able to escape all this fucking teen drama.

You'd think, wouldn't you.

Ha ha ha.

I has a coffee

A coffee with gingerbread syrup in it.

Mmmmmm.

I can't believe I'm only two days into third week and already the work is killing me. Man up, Joy. Man. The fuck. Up.

(Also I may or may not suck at politics. If I do suck at politics, we have a problem. It's my favourite one. I really really hope I don't actually suck at politics.)

The possibility of universal collapse

I have been semi-lamenting my rather unique set of interests recently, specifically that I don't know anybody else who is studying Microeconomics AND loves Phoenix Wright. This has led me to wonder what would happen if I met another person who liked all the same stuff I did.

I have come to the conclusion that it would not end well for any of us. Let's pretend I never thought about it.

Well, would you look at that.

I just found my pen drive after 3 months, in the pocket of a pair of trousers which have been washed at least once since I put it in there. And it still works! I love technology.

I am going to Paris tonight, and then to college on Monday. Excitement is mounting.

I am well, apart from being in the Void Year. 2009 wtf.

Soon, precioussss

I wish I could justify just buying Spore and whiling my life away on that rather than actually going out and living it.

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.