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So, as I expect you’ll be able to guess, I’m incredibly tired. Yeah, I know, I’m always saying that. Actually, I think it’s been a while since I’ve said that. Of course, there’s a good reason…

Partying, essay writing, work and interview prep are all… well… tiring me out.

So, I did the ball in my long black oriental dress; my strappy shoes, my spikey hair. I rocked, if I do say so myself. I felt fucking cool.

And everyone looked great, and everyone commented on how good I looked, so yay, go me. Photos to follow, if I can get hold of some, ‘cos my e-mail’s not working – so I can’t scrounge for photos from others.

I’ve currently got three interviews, all for jobs I really would rather like, and that’s somewhat stressy, but nothing compared to the essays hanging over my head. I still feel somewhat stressed because although I think one of them is now pass-grade, the other essay, I have no idea about. I really need some input on it, and I’ve not had any. Everyone seems to have gone on holiday….

It has to be in on Monday, so I’m a little stressed. i think I’ll mail it to someone else… *frack*.

It’s very weird though, I’ve not been working on them today or yesterday – and it’s very strange to come home and not have to work. I have lots of things I want to do, but because I’m in that half-way house of not having finished, I don’t feel like doing them that and I’m tired.

I dunno, it’s strange. I feel very sad – sad that i got on so well with the guys at the weekend – and that I didn’t get to know them earlier… but I’ve started to become so much a part of the team where I’m working that it gives me that comfort to go to work, and that home that I miss every time I leave a ward. I love my job, I’m good at my job, and I can’t wait to get a job doing my job.

The next few weeks are kind of hard; I have no attachment to places – or a lot of attachment, or detachment. It’s hard to explain. I want to move on with my life, I’m happy to move house, but I want to know where the next phase is going to take me. That’s kind of important now, especially as bills arrive and I stop getting money from university…

I’m still very excited about going to Canada, and meeting Rochelle, and all sorts of Toronto shaped things, but I am currently starting to think about moving. And so, that’s why, it’s important for me to know where I’m going.

Just occasionally I can be such a girl. I’m also a nightmare to take shopping because in general I know exactly what I want; and close isn’t good enough.

So I went into Bath today for: ridiculously strappy, silly heel’d shoes, to go with the black oriental dress; and also some slightly dangly earings. Bear in mind that I slept like crap last night and then got up at 5am for work.

I think I visited every single shoe shop in Bath, before settling on some in Barratts which were the closest to my desires and actually came in my size. Then we got to earrings, that took another hour, mostly revisiting a lot of the same shops and wanting to berate myself for not thinking of it at the same time.

I did however buy new trainers at the same time – I got a pair of Lonsdale Converse Rip-offs (Yay for being a size 6 (some of the time) – I got kids sizes… and kids prices!) and some Karrimor ones, ‘cos there’s a sports shop shutting and the two of them came to 30 quid. Which seemed not unreasonable. I also got Rachie a little something, ‘cos I spotted it and thought ‘Very Rachel’. She’ll have to wait for the next package for that though.

Finally I got some extreme styling hair gel (or some other equally silly name) – for the purpose of styling my hair. Heee.

I shall rock tonight. Rock my little world. If I can walk in these bloody heels :-)

So, I have ‘finished’ one. I’ve written it, failed it, re-written it, been told it’s a piece of crap that won’t pass, rewritten it, proofed it, rewritten it, proofed it *again* and attached it to an e-mail I can’t send ‘cos my mail server appears to be down. I hope it’s back up by this evening, ‘cos the details of where I’m meant to pick up people for the ball tomorrow are on there.

I took a break for an hour, cleaning out the crap that’s accumulated in my car, covering the seats with the gowns my dad wore when he was sick (not, oddly, when he was dying – because he was back in teeshirts in the main then; I suspect the ‘hospital’ nature of gowns was not what he wanted or needed) – vinyl seats in summer are hideous. Of course, having “HEALTHTEX” splattered over the seats is possibly a little disconcerting for some. I think I might get them recovered in something else at some point.

I want them to look right though.

Anyhow, so, I also re-re-readjusted the points; modern parts being phenominally crap, they’d worn closed *again*. Given I did them less than 2000 miles ago, it’s a bit pathetic. They’re meant to last 6k. Perhaps it is time for an optical ignition unit :-/

Anyway, having got the car running smoothly again (it’d started to be hesitant under load, a classic sign of points closing – at least, on my car) and the interior clean, I headed back inside and started to debate ideas about the next essay. Problem is I’m all essayed out. Problem other is that I need to get it finished today so I can hand it in – because I’ve pinched all my days off for interviews; not that I’m complaining about interviews, not at all, not even slightly. What I need, however, is more time off.

So, yeah, I need to do my essays but I am very bored of them, very bored. I may take a break for dinner and then start again.

Tomorrow I shall have to stop at Mastershoe and try to get some funky shoes for the wearing to the ball; annoyingly I’ve not got time to get my eyebrows done (anyone I know in Bristol fancy doing my eyebrows before I go, I’m too paranoid to try and shape them though I may give them a bit of a desparation based tidy – either that or know of a good but not-too-busy beauty salon open on a Sunday?)
I have far too much life sometimes. Most of the time, not enough, but far too much life.

My laptop’s screen’s casing has cracked. It’s been cracking for a while, but I just noticed that it says “Latitu de” now (well,a ctually the crack goes through the d). I guess after these essays are done it’ll ahve to come apart and be repaired some how. Poot.

Why? Because sometimes they’re just that bit bizzare…

I was watching the news over lunch today and, well, this is what I saw… Only, I didn’t start at the beginning which made it even *more* odd.

Sing HO! For the BBC. Yes.

I’ve not got anyone to pounce on this week, although I’ve been prodding most of my friends about this one.

What do I wear to the ball sunday night?

Option A: The chinese dress
Option B: The purple dress (but I wore that last xmas, and would rather not give the impression that I own one dress)
Option C: The black velvet dress (not very flattering, not very exciting, no photo)
Option D: The purple velvet skirt and some top or other
Option E: Attempt to get my dinner jacket cut and fitted in less than a day (no, I won’t….).

Options A and B you get a picture of….

(more…)

So, actually, I’m doing fine. It just took me a little while to work through deeply upset to useless to angry to angry and doing something about it. It appears that this particular lecturer has an unfortunate way with words; and so the anger’s now subsided. That added to her response to my e-mail which suggested that maybe my essay was more in need of tweaks and improvements more than wholesale re-writing again.

*sighs*

I know e-mail is a hard medium to get the hang of, but it’s kind of important to remember that if you don’t phrase things right, all people have got is that bare text in front of them – and it can really suck if that’s not right.

Anyway.

Spent yesterday at a party – drinking into the night, not *far* into the night, but hey. And not really drinking enough – but I had a really good time – chilled out – got to know a couple of the lasses who I’ve been on the course with far better, feel sad that I didn’t get to know them earlier.

Bah.

Tell you one thing though, it’s incredible how much a house says about a person. I walked in and *knew* that the owner of the house was gay. It shouted at me, and I kept saying to myself “don’t leap to conclusions”. Apparently, she is… The thing is, it was clean, the spaces I went into were all the shared ones (she has lodgers – hence this lass living there (see, even still I’m hesitant to go as far as friend, because I really *don’t* know her well enough. She’s dead nice though)).

Yeah. So. But it’s not like my house where there’s lesbian books and magazines, and rainbow flags, and blah, and blah. So what was it that told me? That’s what I don’t get… I just *knew*. Heh, rar for gaydar.

So, actually, I’m doing fine. It just took me a little while to work through deeply upset to useless to angry to angry and doing something about it. It appears that this particular lecturer has an unfortunate way with words; and so the anger’s now subsided. That added to her response to my e-mail which suggested that maybe my essay was more in need of tweaks and improvements more than wholesale re-writing again.

*sighs*

I know e-mail is a hard medium to get the hang of, but it’s kind of important to remember that if you don’t phrase things right, all people have got is that bare text in front of them – and it can really suck if that’s not right.

Anyway.

Spent yesterday at a party – drinking into the night, not *far* into the night, but hey. And not really drinking enough – but I had a really good time – chilled out – got to know a couple of the lasses who I’ve been on the course with far better, feel sad that I didn’t get to know them earlier.

Bah.

Tell you one thing though, it’s incredible how much a house says about a person. I walked in and *knew* that the owner of the house was gay. It shouted at me, and I kept saying to myself “don’t leap to conclusions”. Apparently, she is… The thing is, it was clean, the spaces I went into were all the shared ones (she has lodgers – hence this lass living there (see, even still I’m hesitant to go as far as friend, because I really *don’t* know her well enough. She’s dead nice though)).

Yeah. So. But it’s not like my house where there’s lesbian books and magazines, and rainbow flags, and blah, and blah. So what was it that told me? That’s what I don’t get… I just *knew*. Heh, rar for gaydar.

So, I’m trying to work on the other essay. Unfortunately, now, I feel totally incompetent to tackle either. That and just perched on the edge of sliding down into that shiny, shiny water. That pool. That pool of despair that me and my councellor talked about before. Shit.

Really.

My head is filled with the “if this is too hard for you”, from that e-mail last night. I know it’s not too hard for me, but I just don’t get it, and it’s led me to a place where I’ve got the “have I understood this one?” feeling about the other essay. I felt it was a bit too descriptive, and now looking at it I find myself completely unable to work out how to take it forward. I do just feel like curling up in a dark corner and crying – not least because it might be less than 28 degrees in a dark corner somewhere, and if not, I could just fall asleep in front of the fan.

Damnit.

Damnit, damnit damnit. I should have stuck with technical writing, I may have hated it, and it made me miserable, but I didn’t feel *crap* at it.

So, my happy little post last night reflects my mood this morning. I do feel dumb, quite frankly. I thought I’d got this essay, and clearly I haven’t, and apparently it’s not even pass-worthy. I clearly just don’t get what they want.

It actually kpet me awake last night. I spent half the night led there just thinking about it – and now feel crap today as a result. I’ve got this stupid final conference thing this week. Everyone saying how fucking wonderful it is to have finished the course – and I really don’t feel exactly ‘wonderful’ at the moment. Crap. That’s how I feel. Completely crap.

I suppose I should go have a shower and get some more essay writing done, but quite frankly, I don’t know what I’m going to achieve. I do feel – I guess – completely annihilated. I have to admit, I thought I was pretty good at essay writing; marks of 70 odd percent kind of supporting that, so to suddenly find that I can’t even get a pass? One of the interesting things, is both of these essays are completely different to any other essays I’ve had to write through the entire course. They’re first person reflective pieces, which is, I have to admit, something I’ve never had to write as an academic essay before.

Doesn’t stop me feeling completely shit though.