...of a title for this entry right now. Not as though I did much. Except read 'Ten Things I hate About Me', a teen fiction book that was actually really engrossing. I actually felt as though I was Jamie, for some weird reason, as though it was my father stopping me from making guy friends. Completely stupid, but I suppose I am in a nonentity phase so I can just slip into another character's life.
My father, God knows why, rang the lady at the primary care trust and ranted about being a taxpayer for 35 years etc and an hour later I received a phone call from the counsellor saying that she had an 'open space' on the 4th of December at 12 in Wimbledon. I don't know whether to be angry at my father or what. I didn't want him to rant and rave. I didn't even know he rang.
But then it's become so bad that I misplaced my repeat prescription leaflet but I finally found it today, which means I am going to be out of meds for three days. I know that it will mess up my neurochemistry but I still did it. I have to go to the surgery tomorrow.
I ate 16 Penguin bars in less than 24 hours. That's a lot of Penguin bars. I feel so fucking dehydrated, in spite of drinking enough water, and sleepy as heck. And of course, my circulation on my left side of the body is nil now. It's like a parasitical twin. Just almost dead. Sleeping is torture.
I read the funniest thing on BBC. There's a cat who leaves home each night, gallivants all around and then waits besides the road at 8 am for his owner to pick him up. It was so funny! http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/dorset/7092301.stm
I love kitties, bunnies and birds but can't keep a pet in my mental health stage. Dad is fed up. Life is perfect, non?
I took off most of my profile on Shiamatch. Not really looking to get married so wtf did I keep my profile up and let people message me and waste their time when I really am not getting married. At least now. After all, romantics always have hope, don't they?
Listening to 'I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)' the soundtrack of Benny and Joon. It's such a cute film. I love Johnny Depp and I've only seen 4 of his films, believe it or not. Benny and Joon, Don Juan (which was crap), Pirates (funny), Secret Window (different), Chocolat (hot accent). Oh wait, Edward Scissorhands (not my style) and I guess Corpse Bride doesn't really count, now does it? But then that's 6. And, of course, hours of 21 Jump Street when I was young and très stupide.
Ach. Bored today. And disappointed with myself - always the case. But I like living in London because it at least allows me to imagine and dream about what I would do if I could. Like go to the New Year's Eve Darren Hayes concert somewhere in London. Love him. Shame I won't be going. Sniff sniff. Or at least show up at Deen City Farm.
Aunt and unc are going to Karachi next week. M is going for Christmas. I can't even make it to frigging Tooting. Oh well. Quoi faire?
I would like to sing. I feel that is my creative outlet. Along with wacko dancing. I can't paint or write.
Ciao.
My father, God knows why, rang the lady at the primary care trust and ranted about being a taxpayer for 35 years etc and an hour later I received a phone call from the counsellor saying that she had an 'open space' on the 4th of December at 12 in Wimbledon. I don't know whether to be angry at my father or what. I didn't want him to rant and rave. I didn't even know he rang.
But then it's become so bad that I misplaced my repeat prescription leaflet but I finally found it today, which means I am going to be out of meds for three days. I know that it will mess up my neurochemistry but I still did it. I have to go to the surgery tomorrow.
I ate 16 Penguin bars in less than 24 hours. That's a lot of Penguin bars. I feel so fucking dehydrated, in spite of drinking enough water, and sleepy as heck. And of course, my circulation on my left side of the body is nil now. It's like a parasitical twin. Just almost dead. Sleeping is torture.
I read the funniest thing on BBC. There's a cat who leaves home each night, gallivants all around and then waits besides the road at 8 am for his owner to pick him up. It was so funny! http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/dorset/7092301.stm
I love kitties, bunnies and birds but can't keep a pet in my mental health stage. Dad is fed up. Life is perfect, non?
I took off most of my profile on Shiamatch. Not really looking to get married so wtf did I keep my profile up and let people message me and waste their time when I really am not getting married. At least now. After all, romantics always have hope, don't they?
Listening to 'I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)' the soundtrack of Benny and Joon. It's such a cute film. I love Johnny Depp and I've only seen 4 of his films, believe it or not. Benny and Joon, Don Juan (which was crap), Pirates (funny), Secret Window (different), Chocolat (hot accent). Oh wait, Edward Scissorhands (not my style) and I guess Corpse Bride doesn't really count, now does it? But then that's 6. And, of course, hours of 21 Jump Street when I was young and très stupide.
Ach. Bored today. And disappointed with myself - always the case. But I like living in London because it at least allows me to imagine and dream about what I would do if I could. Like go to the New Year's Eve Darren Hayes concert somewhere in London. Love him. Shame I won't be going. Sniff sniff. Or at least show up at Deen City Farm.
Aunt and unc are going to Karachi next week. M is going for Christmas. I can't even make it to frigging Tooting. Oh well. Quoi faire?
I would like to sing. I feel that is my creative outlet. Along with wacko dancing. I can't paint or write.
Ciao.
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