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Past Entries

October 15th, a Monday

Ok, here's a nice big entry to make up for my recent bout of hideous silence.

I've been listening to Majandra Delfino and have decided that I want to be singer. It wasn't just Majandra, to be fair, but it was she who inspired me to get out my Fiona Apple and PJ Harvey and yearn once more to have a lustful deep jazzy voice. Sigh. That I will never have. But I can write killer lyrics, and it's not like the guy from Hefner can sing, right? (Sorry Darren, I love you, but you don't really hit them high notes too well). And it's not as though I *can't* sing - I have an ok voice, it's just not what I was born to do.

Does that sound corny? Thinking I had a calling? Maybe I just like to think I did so I can just mope and be all melodramatic about being a danseuse manquee. I love flamenco, but at heart I am a ballerina. A fat, lazy ballerina.

Ahem.

My thighs are like rock. It's great. I'm fascinated by muscles - the way they pop up after a few weeks of exercise and go gloopy if you get slack. I like having muscles, it makes me strong. It still hurts me more than it hurts Luke when I punch him though. He is indestructable. He can lift up half a car. I'm not joking.

Luke, otherwise known as 'The carpenter's son' is a friend of the family who does odd jobs at the house on the weekend. He's a carpenter too see, he knows his stuff. Luke is like my brother and I love him very much. He is getting married next year to a lovely young lady called Lydia. We tried to ring up 94.5 and request something cheesy like that Titanic song at their engagement party, but they weren't messing up their schedule for us. No Celine Dion. Cry. But they did put Nik on air, wishing Luke and Lydia a long and happy life together. It was funny becausehe actually barely knows them - it's just that he rang up because I was too nervous to.

Last friday I went to a Musica Viva Concert at the Concert Hall (horrible place, not enough candy and flat champagne - but still there are the memories. Memories of being forced to siing 'Tonight tonight' in my school uniform amid a bunch of obnoxious PC girls. I swear that night has ruined that song for me forever.) It was Pascal Roget (french pianist) and some string quartet. The music wasn't up to much - I have concluded that I am *not* a fan of Cesar Franck. But I did like the Faure.

Most of the time I was thinking about candy though. I was telling Nadia (she came with me) in the car, how I was going to run amock with the confecionary in the interval. Since I couldn't choose between candy, chocolate and nuts, Nad suggested a delightful fantasy food called the 'chocolate-candy-nut-ball'. Then, in true Nadia style, she pretended to hold a big boulder and gnaw away at it enthusiastically. Ho, ho.

There were some funny moments courtesy of my Godmother too. My mother brought her along since we had four tickets and she is, you know, bereaved and all. But oh my God she said some hilariously terrible things. Eg.

'I once went to see that John Williams. He just sat on the stage playing his guitar the whole time. I know he's supposed to be quite good, but really, can you imagine anything more boring?'

Oh Lordy. What was she hoping for? A spot of clog dancing? Some audience participation?

I love my Godmother dearly, but really, she says the darndest things.

In support of her argument:

Maria: 'I'm glad there's going to be a string quartet there tonight. The piano gets a bit boring, I find.'

My mother: 'Oh I love the piano.'

Maria: 'Oh yes, but you wouldn't want to listen to just the piano the whole time, would you?'

My mother: 'Yes. I would.'

A moment's silence.

It's a pretty weird attitude to music for a woman who was married to a concert flautist for 20 years. Very bourgeois (Sorry, I've been reading Hesse).

I had drinks with Nik and Damien last night. Then Nik and I went back to his place and had some spontaneous fun. And some jasmine tea.

I've been trying to download the new Buffy episodes from this God-send of a site, but for some reason the download keeps pretending it's finished when it's not - at 35% at 3% at 72% - and then I have to start again. It's driving me nuts. If anyone knows what the problem is, please tell me.

Oh and speaking of downloading stuff, I found out, searching for the Roswell theme on KaZaa that it is in fact a DIDO number. And I love it. This is most disconcerting. I was determined not to expose myself to her music because all the hype irritated me, but now I'm hooked, at least on that song. It's just beautiful.

The show still sucks though. I'm not going back on that. I may be crazy about Majandra Delfino and the theme song, but that's as far as it goes. I mean it.

I'm at uni as we speak. Normally I wouldn't in this stuffy computer lab, but I can't find anyone to talk to. It's one of those slightly damp days that sends people scurrying into the library to hide in dank corners. Alas. No friends for me. Maybe I'll go and hunt for them again. Or maybe I'll make some new ones. Yeah, there's a plan. I'll let you know how I go...

October 20th, a Saturday

I skipped dance class this morning. I'm feeling tired and oogy. Wonder why that is... could be the excessive drinking last night. Also my uterus hurts. Things are not looking good for today.

I have so much to do and I just know that I'm not going to do any of it.

Losing people makes me sad. I'm not talking about death (the word 'sad' doesn't really fit there) or break-ups. I'm talking about people: friends, aquaintences, the people who are only good for a cup of coffee or two. I constantly feel like I'm missing something. It's become an obsession - I look at everybody in every room and I see a million threads, a million paths, a million possibilities. There is so much to every person and I'm only going to find out about a few in my lifetime. I suppose it's the collector in me that makes that prospect so upsetting. Or it's the obsessive in me.

I remember when I was little, walking down the street in St Maximin with my mother, I was tapping the back of all the parked cars as I went along. It seemed perfectly nonchalant to passers-by I'm sure, but it wasn't. When I missed one I broke away from my mother and ran back to touch it. I couldn't bear the thought of leaving it out. Mum got angry with me and she was probably right to because it looks as though that's where all my sad little patterns come from. Alas. Damn cars with their parking. Hussies.

Last night was... I don't know what last night was. It wasn't fun and it wasn't not-fun. It just was.

It was unpleasant being around James. Not that I had to talk to him. Or even look at him. Or acknowledge his presence in any way. It's like that these days and I think it's so impossibly sad... I don't miss him though and I'm glad - that, at least, is healthy.

Brendan showed up, which was strange. Eugene invited him (he was there for James's party, not Nadine's - it was a joint). He's cut his hair really short. Looks like an army boy. Nadia and Leon were there - not really together though. Things didn't go so well in that department - there was much ignoring on both sides and then much hurt-feeling on both sides. Oh the bitter bitter irony of it all - and isn't it always the way?

There was a bar tab for about five minutes, but I bought my own drinks. Just champagne. And then more champagne. And more. It's funny how you can be miserable and exciteable at the same time while drunk. It's very confusing. I think I may have been a bit boring.

Eugene was hilarious! He'd had a few and was giving us the whole Eugene-ish angsty 'what is the meaning of life' spiel. Quoting Rousseau and such. I swear I thought I was going to hyperventilate. He's adorable when he's lyrical.

Hehmm.

October 21st, a Sunday

Today has been slow, boring, windy, rainy and generally drab.

Last night was a bit windy and rainy too and ever so drab. George muscled in on my drinks with Nik again, reducing the conversation to overly enthusiastic impersonations of Ali-G. Sigh. I think I might have said two sentences in 45 minutes.

My bro aint too good on the whole social graces thing. Or the whole going away thing. But we've covered this already. It's old news: boring, drab, slow...

I'm starting to feel uncomfortable with this whole living thing again. Funny how that always seems to happen around exam time...

So anyway I did a 'Who's your inner rock chick' test in the hopes that it might cheer me up (small things) and pfft - they reckon I'm Celine Dion. I voted for outdoor musical festivals for heaven's sake! Stupid quiz... way to depress a girl.

I keep having dream about falling in love. Pretty much every night. So much so that they're starting to seem like nightmares every night. The thing is I wake up every morning heart-broken over someone I don't even know. It's torture, baby.

This is a joke, I should be studying.

Here's to being industrious. Hrm.