| I've been to the Year 3000. It was shit |
[16 Mar 2005|04:30pm] |
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mood |
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 groggy |
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music |
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Busted |
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More packages came today
Packages=<3
I also got a card saying that I have to pay £2.14 for a package which is waiting for me at the Post Office. This is odd,because I only have one Ebay item outstanding and I payed £8.00 postage for that-it's only two games so there's no way on Earth the postage cost that much and if it does turn out to be that I'm going to have some serious words with the seller. All my other packages expected are from Amazon, and surely they wouldn't underpay postage would they?
Maybe it is a mystery package of Joy and Wonder.
Or maybe some Ebay twunt has just ripped me off for ten quid.
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[14 Mar 2005|11:00pm] |
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mood |
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 sad |
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music |
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Appleton, for some reason. |
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I never write anything anymore. My head has some kind of block in it where all my thoughts chunder around, bothering me, and yet I am unable to express them in even the most base form, which is why I spend so much time titting around on LJDrama.
My life is too eventful. In the time since I last posted in this journal I've had three other jobs. Currently I am training as a residential social worker in children's homes. This is fun if irritating at times, especially as the children are all shrewd little buggers who have learnt the hard way to screw people before they get screwed, and have histories of doing things like reporting fake assaults to the police. One of them persistently claims he is in the Army when he is a) three years too young b) medically unsuitable on two different grounds and c)repeatedly informed of a) and b).
I still have bugger all money but considering how shit I was treated by my last employers I'm just glad I got out of there alive. I'm considering a tribunal but who the fuck cares.
I am very sad. I am supposed to be officially 32 weeks pregnant today. I am not. There should be a bunched up little girl treading her way around inside me, pulling faces and yawaning and hiccuping and waiting to be born and crushing the hell out of my spine. Instead all I have in me is some fizzy cola bottles and two cups of tea.
I didn't think it was possible to physically feel the absence of someone who was technically never there, but I can feel a defined space out in front of me and inside me where my baby should be now, and it feels hollow. This makes no sense to me. At all. As if I was ever going to be Earth Mother of the Year even if she was still alive.
In irrelevent news, my iPod is at Ian's house and I miss it more than anyone should miss an instrument of capitlaist hegemony. And due to going crazy with the little bit of money I actually DID manage to claw out of NCHA for the three fucking months of work they got out of me in shitty and frankly illegal conditions, I ordered lots and lots of books and literary goodness is still coming through the door.
Getting packages is really one of life's underrated small pleasures.
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| And I'm crazy, tryna be your laydee.... |
[02 Dec 2004|05:14pm] |
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mood |
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 blah |
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music |
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Black Eyed Peas-Shut Up |
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It is my six month anniversary today.
What is alarming is that I'm twenty one and I've never had a one of these before.
Sadly I will not be seeing the Ian for a time unspecified due to clashing work commitments. I did however take him home following my Late Graduation For Losers on Saturday and the family aren't mocking him to his face, which is something, though I'm not sure what they have to say about me when I'm not there, let alone anyone else.
Also on the slight return to Scousedom we met baby Beth, child of my favourite cousin, who was born on Friday night and is beautiful. I'm sure she'll be much more beautiful in a few weeks when I see her next, when she's lost that confused I-just-want-to-sleep newborn expression. But she farts like a trooper, so I am already proud to claim her as one of my own.
I have sent off a form enabling me to have a copy of my psychiatric records. I don't know why I even want one, except pure perverse curiosity. Which covers a multitude of sins I suppose.
I have eaten too many M&M's this afternoon, and now I feel sick. I might go and lie down in order that I can at least say in future that I spent most of my first ever six month anniversary in bed.
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[28 Oct 2004|04:53pm] |
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mood |
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 secretarial |
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I am at work. I am at work in the Eye Ear Nose and Throat Centre at the QMC, where I have frittered away most of my temping career.
It's nice to be at work again. I feel so much less lazy and useless and I also have reason to believe that my hourly rate for this assignment is £6.69 an hour. Oh, I do hope and pray it is.
I have, literally, NO MONEY. There is £20 in my bank account. £10 of this will be spent getting to work next week. In fact, that will cost more than £10. Pay will not be forthcoming until next Friday. This is scary. I have never lived under such worrying poverty. I have had to borrow at least £5 from Ian in order to get to work/eat enough food to live this week. As Ian is 18 and lives at home with his parents and has no job (although he has an interview with the Labour Party. Go, my Ian <3 ) I feel excruciatingly awful about this.
He's still at my house. This is blissful. He's been watching the World Series (explain to me, please, how Baseball People have the audacity to call their big tournament the World Series when only one country is bored enough to turn a game of rounders into a profession for grown men?) at night, on Channel 5, which involves me going to sleep and him having the TV on, and then waking me up when his rounders team wins. He cooked me food while I was on the way home yesterday, and all of this is like being married. I enjoy it.
There should be a letter waiting for me at home about my permanent job which (please, please, oh sweet Lord who has blighted my poor life with such crud over the years and who currently has me living in idiopathic poverty that would make a monk take out a bank loan) should start on the 8th of November, and then I will be a full member of society and-sod this, it is 5 o'clock. I am going home.
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| you slit your own throat |
[19 Oct 2004|01:59am] |
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mood |
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 full |
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I think I may have drunk approximately three quarters of a litre of Coke.
I am bloated.
I had pizza and my hand smells like pumpkin.
I came home from a wretchedly boring lecture given by this bafflingly irrelevant woman whose literary output, to the best of my knowledge, is one crap seventies childrens book about a builder excorcising a ghost. I was not pleased. I saw no point to it at all, do not understand why it had to replace what would have been a useful core session on my course, was cold and frightened by how dull the conversation I overheard in the hallways was. Go and see Farenheit 9/11 or something, people. Jesus. Getting all wound up because some woman none of the English postgrads in the room ever seemed to have heard of said she isn't reading DH Lawrence much any more, they were. Alarming.
I came home and everyone was being drunk and loud and watching a documentary about a woman with multiple personality disorder. We had a discussion about whether this is a real condition or not which would have been a lot more worthwhile if Nick and Faye hadn't been pissed and shouting. Then the evening descended a bit. Me and John tried to talk Nick out of leaving the house because he is depressed. I am worried about Nick at the moment and I think it would be best for him to be around people he is used to who care about how he is and what happens to him, but that is just my opinion and he is free to discount it. Then there was shouting and mirth about how crap all our lives are, and then Dave came, and then there was pizza, and then there was a rather baffling game of Uno and then we carved a pumpkin and I made it quote Janel Moloney by carving I LIKE CUNT into the back.
It's very effective. Looked great when we lit a candle. I took a photo and am childishly amused and pleased by it.
Everyone seems to have gone to bed now. I think Nick and Dave are still up and talking to a random boy who came round randomly. Actually I think Nick summoned him out of depression. Nick's really worrying me. He's smoked tonight, a lot, which I don't usually see him do, and I'm not sure it's a good idea for anyone to be swigging a good measure of neat vodka from the bottle and trying to get people to walk to a very deep river with them. I must corner him and talk to him when he is quiet and sober. I think that's going to be difficult for the forseeable future because he is quite evidently drinking so he doesn't have to think about how depressed he is. I'm not quite sure how best to handle this.
Both the gay boys seem to have fallen in love with Ian over the story that he sold his Dreamcast and games to pay for his train ticket to come see me the other week. This amuses me.
There will be Ian in about 16 hours. Not even a day. This is a thing which brings me great pleasure. I don't care if I'm pathetic for counting hours either. I have never had anything like this and I am damn well going to enjoy every second of my lovely boy. Yes, I am. So fuck you.
I wish I hadn't had all that pizza *urp*
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| common in the house of lords |
[17 Oct 2004|11:04pm] |
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sick |
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Marah |
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Do not withdraw from antidepressants. It sucketh.
My head keeps doing weird buzzy things because I forgot to put my prescription in and I don't have enough pills. I despise being dependant on drugs, I really do.
In fact thats probably a bit of a lie because clomipramine kicks serious insanity arse. I like being sane. Well, comparatively sane.
They have tried to up the dose (haha, I have taken precisely a quarter of my old dose all week until today when I felt very bad and miraculously found an old pill knocking around in my bag.) but I think that my recent psyciatric crisis was related to hormones induced by a Certain State Of Being, and the fact that I have been miserable since the end of that is circumstantial. So I think maybe it might be better to save upping the dose for a crisis, should one arise. The year since I have been on these pills has been remarkably free of psychiatric crisis. Life crisis is a different matter, but then if you're reading this you'll know all about that. I have amassed a couple of new scars but let's put those down to life crisis and move on, shall we?
In less than 43 hours there will be Ian, and Ian will bring his West Wing DVDs, and this combination of things causes me infinate pleasure. I love my Ian, although I resent him having gotten me addictd to the West Wing. I have enough sad fangirl addictions without cultivating those of my boyfriend.
He is taking me to see Marah again on Saturday (I am getting many days of Ian this week. Happy happy happy. Loveth the Ian.)I am listening to them so that I will remember some of the songs.
As much as I like her pretty voice, Caroline Lost is a stupid name for a singer, yes?
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| All the difficult children |
[17 Oct 2004|05:22pm] |
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mood |
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 pissed off |
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music |
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Dogs Die In Hot Cars-Godhopping |
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So this weekend I are mostly been very pissed off.
Tomorrow I am going to put on my not-pissed-off face and try and secure some form of employment back at the hospital.
That hospital is haunting me.
But I should be nice, as I need the work.
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