I am grumpy. I went to bed really late and Steven woke me
up at half ten by shrieking "What!" and slamming doors. Bah.
What do you do in these situations, say "Hey. You woke me up.
Feel guilty for a bit then don't do it again." or do you ignore it?
Apathetic towards politeness, which is unfortunate as:

Simon is arriving in an hour. He's here to celebrate Helen's birthday
and come to dinner with us, but the meal is at eight so I have
many hours of playing host. It's daunting. I have a lot of work
to do. I'm leaving at ten tomorrow to go to Manchester so I won't be
able to spend time with him then, so I should make the effort.
(Sorry Simon, if you read this. I like hanging out with you.)

I am going to eat a Yorkie and put on my grey leggings.

Things I am not sure about:

1) The affectionate term “hun”. It can’t stand for “honey”, surely.
What could it mean? Hunky? Hungry? Hunchback? I’m not sure I
like being referred to in this way.

2) Why I don’t trust people to mention me in conversation and
not say something like “This girl means well but god, she’s rude/
annoying/a complete freak”. I think from now on you should all
refer to me as The Charming Beautiful One to ease my
growing paranoia.

3) How to make porridge. The Ready-Brek Box sits on top
of the oven, untouched since December.

4) How I’m supposed to do a Masters in Creative Writing next
year when I have forgotten how to write.
“It was only when you got closer that you realised he was a person.
In the distance he looked like a tree, one of those small firs that
appeared around Christmas time in the old world to mark the
coming of advent.”
This is not good writing.

5) Why my fish is still alive.

6) How I’m supposed to turn into a real person with a job and
a house and a network of interesting and intelligent acquaintances
when I’m so bloody confused about everything all the time.

All things considered, we still have terrible communication.

I could play this game for hours. Hours.

Before I attempted to play it for hours tonight,
David, Helen, Paul and I watched Doctor Who.
I guess it takes a bad breakup to realise it, but
The Doctor isn't a hero at all. He's a jackass.
He abandonned Sarah-Jane without letting her
know the score, he invited Nurse Redfern to be
his companion after Martha supported him and
kept him safe for months... He may not sex up
his companions, but he seems to think an awful
lot with his penis. I am unimpressed with The
Doctor right now.

Things I Realised Today:

1) I really like editing and writing other people's dating profiles.
2) Homemade Garlic Mushrooms are really tasty.
3) If my author friend isn't tastlessly misogynistic, he's doing a very
good job of pretending to be.

Conclusion:

I should be a personal councellor who cooks at home a lot, and that
I need to stop spending so much time searching Friction for good but
personality-deforming quotes and ideas to use in my essay.

This somes up how I am feeling right now quite well.

Stupid, Happy and Annoyed.
Can one be "happy and annoyed"?
I think I am.

“You said I killed you - haunt me, then!
The murdered do haunt their murderers, I believe.
I know that ghosts have wandered on earth.
Be with me always - take any form - drive me mad!
only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”
(Emily Bronte)

Today I let myself believe that:
I am not some nineteenth century maiden.
I am not not defined by that relationship.
I am my own person.
I am going to get over it.