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The boy who I kssed at Are Friends Eclectic on Friday has, rather sweetly, found me on facebook and sent me a message apologising profusely for his behaviour (what it lacks in punctuation, it makes up for in earnestness). I feel rather charmed- I've kissed quite a few boys who only told me afterwards they were all ready taken, but none of them have been quite so apparently guilt-ridden as this one. I just hoped he remebered to say sorry to hs girlfriend too. Perhaps it was her who made him send me the message? Also, judging from his profile photos, lederhosen-and-hair-sequins isn't his usual look, even for clubbing. In fact he seems to be more of an standard East London-ish oversized-check-shirt-over-tight-white-vest or fluro-tshirt-with-oversized-specs boy. How terribly disappointing.
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Very proud of myself today; managed to get to the charity and stay the entire day, despite being awake most of the night from coldness/churny stomach feelings/angst. Angst has been depriving me of sleep an awful lot recently; on Tuesday I spent most of night shaking and crying and thinking some very morbid thoughts. Earlier that day, I became embroiled in a rather vicious in-couple fight, where I was effectively banned from seeing a male friend because his girlfreind doesn't trust him to be alone with another girl. Which was upsetting enough in itself, but I have gone out of my way to be extra-nice to this girl, and I feel pretty hurt that she thinks I would consider seducing her boyfriend (who also happens to be a good friend of my ex, who I wouldn't want to hurt either). Do I really come across as that much of a bitch that it would be conceivable I would do such a thing? Perhaps I should work harder at being a nice person. Ironically, the boy has come on to me several times before (when very, very drunk), and I've always had to calm the situation down. Also, I've always felt a rather in awe of the girl as I have always considered her to be far prettier/better dressed/cooler than me, and so has often inspired all kinds of insecurities in me.

Hmm, have I used the term 'Irony; correctly in the above writing?

As I've been typing this entry, a song has come on the radio which contains the lyrics, "When I was 17, I had wrists of steel, and I felt complete". This doesn't really chime with my experience of being 17, but I really like it none the less- especially the resulting mental image of a floppy-haired indie boy with bionic metal wrists.

Also, how big are the paws on this cat?! : http://cuteoverload.com/2010/03/07/brain-freeze-brain-freeze/
Amazing.
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The past week, all in all, has been pretty miserable (with the exception of the second outing of Wasim's night, Are Friends Eclectic, where I got to play Your Disco Needs You and got kissed by a boy in lederhosen with star-shaped sequins in his hair. Turns out he had a girlfriend in the end (the cad!), but oh well, not my fault. And she apparently beat him all the way till next Tuesday, so he got what he probably deserved). There are various things I want to update about, but I just feel so devoid of energy at the moment. I think I may watch Skins on 4od and then go to sleep until tomorrow, and hope that this week has just been a blip.
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How does a farmer keep count of his herd?
...
With a cow-culator!

You can blame a local am-dram production of Jack and the Beanstalk for that one. I do love Christmas-cracker standard jokes :-p

Proper journal update about 1920's hair styles, feminist sex workers and my slightly wobbly mental state soon.
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Today I have:
-made a phone call to a friend to congratulate and offer support to to a friend who is going to see a doctor about a long-term health issue
- done some high speed dancing (including some bouncy cheerleader-esque posing with imaginary pompoms) to some of my dj-ing mix cds (Jogging by Yelle, Celebrity Skin by Hole, D.A.N.C.E by Justice and Spell-bound by Siouxsie induced particularly exerting moves)
- read a couple of chapters of a book that will hopefully teach me how to draw (well)
-had a shouty argument with mum about university-related things (don't ask)
-had another phone call from a friend who is back from uni for reading week  and wants to make pancakes with me this evening
-read some blogs.

None of these have been particularly physically strenuous activities (apart form the high-speed dancing, which did leave me rather sweaty and out of breath), but I feel utterly exhausted. I often wonder if I suffer from a mild form of ME, such is puny-ness of my energy levels, but doctor's tests say that's not the cause. I also harbour a sneaking envy for those I know who can go out 3, 4, or even 5 nights on the trot, when going out for even two nights in a row leaves me utterly wiped-out. Also, though I love going out dancing till the early hours, the resulting lack of sleep completely fucks my moods for a good 48 hours afterwards and brings on all kinds of sneaky angst (by the way, don't take this as me saying I no longer want to go out- I still most definitely do). Does anyone else experience this? I may only be 22, but clearly my body thinks it's someone much, much older.

I'm now lying on my bed, conserving energy for pancaking tonight (what's your favourite pancake? give me ideas!), listening to Air's back catalogue on spotify. Good old Air, Cherry Blossom Girl is still one of my favourite relaxing songs. Ahhh.
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I didn't get the job. I knew I probably wouldn't- I don't have anywhere near enough experience- but I'm disappointed all the same, and I REALLY could have done with the money. I'm desperately trying to pay off my overdraft (from my student bank account, urgh), so every penny is sacred, and even buying something costing a mere couple of quid causes much angsting and guilt. I'm a bit too scared to check my balance, I don't want to know how much of my money gets eaten up in travel fares. Oh well. Soon, I will make a big list of all the things I will buy when it is actually *my* money again, to keep my motivation going.

I appear to have fallen in a sort of emotional black hole recently. I keep having dramatic, scary mood swings that descend in minutes and leave me shaking and tearful. And for some unknown reason, they seem to be most common in the evening. It's all the usual anxieties- I'm repulsively hideous, I'm laughably stupid, I'm a rubbish person, etc etc blah blah blah. It all feels a bit yucky and adolescent and self-indulgent, but I can't seem to shift it. And then I feel guilty about feeling so miserable, which makes me feel even more miserable. I'm starting to wonder if the weekly counselling sessions are doing more harm than good. I like my counsellor and everything, but maybe it's all encouraging me to more introspective than is healthy. Too much self-analysis. Maybe I should quit them, and just learn to grit my teeth and pull myself together. I'm not a teenager any more, I should be able to function better by now!

Earlier today, whilst in my local friendly library, I noticed that a sequel has recently been released to Six Dinner Sid. Six Dinner Sid, for those of you who didn't grow up in a feline-focused household, is a children's book about a rather greedy cat, who cons a street-load of cat lovers in to giving him six meals a day. From what I can tell, it's been rather successful as far as picture books go, so I'm a bit baffled as to why the author has waited quite so many decades to produce a follow up. Also, the plot features considerably more peril this time round (including a dramatic sequence where Sid's new friend, Jock the Scottish wild cat, gets abducted by a grumpy eagle), but yeah; anyone who likes cute children's books about sneaky cats, I reccomend it, especially if you remember the first book.

Plug time: I'm dj-ing at No Fiction club at Powers in Kilburn tomorrow night. It's free entry, the drinks are pretty cheap, and there's a late night milkshake bar just over the road from the venue. A couple of bands are playing too; Raven beats Crow, and Neon Highwire. I haven't really sat down and listened to either of them yet, but I'm sure they're very good, especially if you're partial to the odd synthesizer. Due to above-mentioned gloomy phase I'm in at the moment, I'm finding the whole actual leaving-the-house-and-going-places thing a bit daunting right now, so it be lovely to see some of your familiar faces there.
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Job interview tomorrow. Wish me good luck, etc. It's for a part-time (probably only one day a week) position of "disability advisor" at a local charity, where I have been volunteering as a "trainee advisor" since last September. The charity are struggling hugely for funding (which is provided entirely by the council and may stop in a few months time), hence why the hours are so few. It does pay £13 per hour, though, so if I do get it, it will be the best paid job (aside from dominatrixing) I've ever had, not to mention the first that actually feels like a "proper" job. I doubt I'll get it- I don't have a huge amount of experience and I'm sure there will be other volunteers applying for it with far more knowledge than I have- but it is nice to get through to the interview stage. Of course, I may get the job, only for the charity to run out of funding and close down a few months later. It will be a real shame if it does close, as that would severely limit the options and help available to local disabled, and we're such a widely used service, we're struggling to cope with the demand as it is. But, if the council don't want to pay, there's little we can do :-/

In the meantime, I am slowly paying off my over draft by way of a tele-market-researcher (is that too many hyphens?) job. The money isn't amazing and the hours are sporadic (it's a freelance company), but the people all seem nice enough, and my supervisor is a fantastic Debbie Harry lookalike who was briefly a singer in Girlschool and went on tour with Motorhead, which is interesting. Quite a leap to go form that to working in market research, though.

New series of Skins starts next week, huzzah. The girls who play Naomi and Emily are on the cover of the most recent issue of Diva magazine, looking very tousled and attractive. Also, the accompanying interview says that Lily Lovelace (the Naomi actress) is now 19, which makes me feel far less creepy and cradle-snatchy for fancying (even though she plays a 17 year-old).
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I am making my dj-ing debut tomorrow (accompanied by Alex!) at Club Hell at the Cross Kings in Kings Cross! Entry is £5, or £4 if you let me know that you are coming in advance and I put you on the guestlist. No specific dress code, though dressing-up is probably encourged. I shall be learnign how to dj literalyl as I go along, so come along, dance, and lets hope I don't manage to break the cd player with 'hilairious' results! Also, I've been told I play whatever the hell I feel like, so if anyone has any song requests, do let me know...

question:

Oct. 7th, 2009 12:10 am
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At what point does anxiety/paranoia etc stop being just normal quirks of a sane perosn and start becoming a cause for concern? Enquiring minds wish to know...

Huzzah!

Oct. 5th, 2009 10:02 pm
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http://annaspansdiary.com/annaspansblog/2009/10/05/first-ever-uk-release-of-a-film-that-contains-female-ejaculation/

Yay for Anna Span-  this is a big step forward for modern feminism. but it is kind of alarming that the BBFC were, up til now, so very adamant the women just couldn't orgasm in that way!
Also, the more exposure (excuse the pun) that female and female-friendly porn makers get, the better. There is a certian sector of feminism that says that all porn is degrading to women. I disagree, but I do think the vast, vast majority of mainstreme porn is degrading to women. Porn will never go away, and I don't think it should, but a gender democatization of smut? that's both more feasible and desireable. The idea that women can have their own fantasies independant of pleasing men is still frowned on by a lot of people- as demonstrated by the amount of hoo-ha earlier this year when Filament magazine- that specialise in printing arty pictures of pretty men (not just muscle-bound hunks) for the female gaze- tried to publish (shock horror!) a picture of an erect penis. Even the comparatively tame Scarlet magazine was banned from some newsagents for being too saucy- while the same shops don't bat an eyelid at page 3 or Nuts magazine.

Everyone should be allowed to get their rocks off in whatever way they choose (rape, incest and bestiality excepted), and women should have as much choice as men- and they should be allowed to ejaculate afterwards without being told that, sorry, women just can't do that sort of thing.

And yes, I know all of my friendslist are liberal feminists themselves and I am essentially preaching to the converted...!
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My mental health feels like it's taken a real nosedive over the past few days. I feel really reclusive, like I can't really face seeing anyone apart from David. but the thing is, I know it would probably be healthier for me to force myself out of the house and see people. So, if anyone wants to come up to Whetstone and see me, or have me come and see them, now would be a fantastic time to give me some gentle nudging and pursuasion. Cheers.
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Went to the scoop theatre last night to see a production of Medea. My knowledge of Greek tragedies being embarrasingly limited, I had only the vaguest of ideas as to the plot, but,. as it happens,  this didn't affect my enjoyment of the play in the slightest. If anything, it enhanced it, as I could fully appreciate the "will she? won't she?" suspense. The cast was fantastic, particualy Siobhan O'Kelly playing the titular role with energy and quivering rage to spare. Interestingly, the chorus had been translated into a crowd of tabloid hacks (the whole produciton was in modern dress). During the post-play discussion, the point was raised about the somewhat unrealistic levels of sympathy and hand wringing by the reporters over Medea's actions- without them stepping in to stop her. Also, thier sympathy seemed to lie with her over jason- since when were the modern tabloids kind to embittered women over their slick husbands and younger mistresses? Still, it's well worth going to see. They'e performing (for free!) near London bridge over the next two evenings- google will give you more details, I'm sure. Highly reccomended.
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I think that 6 to 8 people is thie ideal number of people to celebrate something with. There's enough t make you feel loved and popular and fab, but not so many that you don't get a chance to have a chat with everyone. Also, cake in clubs is wonderful (thank you Alex!) and having the whole club vitually all to you and your friends for the first few hours is smashing too, as it feels like it's YOUR club! And my new shoes got loads of compliments! Thank you to people who came out last night, I had a rollicking good time :-D
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I seem to be going through a bit of rough pathc right now. I'm knackered every monring, then fine during the day, then tearful and as miserable as sin in the evening. David's going to Reading festival on Thursday, and I'm kinda dreading not having him there for support/. It also means he won't be at Glam Racket. Where am I going to stay afterwards? i don't fany trecking back up to Whetstone...

On a brighter note, though, the shoes he's bought me for my birthday turned up this morning. They're silver imitation snak skin platform wedges, and VERY high. I look intimidatingly tall when I wear them, which I think is excellent.
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Last ever Stay Beautiful, this Saturday, 9pm-3am, at the Purple Turtle, just by Mornington Cresent tube.

See you there.
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Would anyone like to come and see this with me?: http://www.picturehouses.co.uk/news_item.aspx?venueId=gate&id=1819
I wish Biba was still around today, it looks so pretty! I suppose it wouldn't last long in the Primark culture of today's highstreet, but still...


I went to David's father and step-mother's house in Ashtead over the weekend, and ate and slept more there than I had done in ages. It is the only place where I can attempt a proper 3 course meal, and I always feel a bit lardy afterwards. David told me he thought that I had gone through a bit of a "mad phase" recently, and, looking back, I have felt a bit unstable lately. There hasn't been one particular event or worry that has been on my mind, it's more a general realisation of the complete yawning endless hopelessness of life. I'm currently reading 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being" by Milan Kundra, and though it's a brilliant, engaging, intelligent book, it probably isn't making me feel any happier. I should probably talk about my feelings with my councellor (that is what she is there for, after all), but I'm worried she will just blame it all on the dominatrix thing, which she has made clear she does NOT approve of.

Every so often, I have very violent dreams, in which there is a point when I realise the futility of whatever I'm trying to do (escape from a killer, trying to please everyone but only making things worse, whatever) and kill myself as a means of escape. Last night's dream started off innocuous enough, just silly surreal dream-stuff about dominatrixes and boybands and dildo-shaped waterpistols (or was it water pistol-shaped dildos?), but then there was a sequence where I was on a bus (with said boyband), driving through woods littered with satanist symbols, on houses, carved into trees, etc. After nearly being strangled by a witch who bore a striking resembalence to Jo Brand, I was back on the bus with boyband's psychotic manager. He was trying to kill me somehow, I screamed for the other passengers to restrain him, then I jumped through the bus window and threw myself to death down a deep, rocky ravine. Lying on the ground, my body smashed to pieces, my soul looked up at the road I had just jumped from, which had now descended into chaos, with fireworks (wtf?), explosions, and armies fighting each other.

Actually, typing all the above out, it seems a bit silly, but it was quite scary at the time, promise! I wonder what it all means?

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Or, I dunno, maybe it's just pmt making me all crazy and paranoid.
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Good news: I have my first paying client on Wednesday.

Bad news: David is talking to me less and less. I fear we're hitting a rocky patch. I feel more stressed about it by the minute...
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Just heard that Stay Beautiful is closing, for good, next month.

Worst Monday morning ever...
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