Plain Jane and a quest for fame.

Today's eating:

a cookie (200)
a cup of broccoli and stilton soup and a bread roll (200)
an apple (40)
a pitta bread with cheese and tomato puree (200)
4 pieces of garlic bread (200)
brie (100)
sultanas (100)
cake we made. (400)

Ok. If this works out right, I have ate 1400 calories today. I hope. Which is bad, but at least a decrease; I also went on a walk. I went to a friend's and we baked cake and took it to see an Inconvenient truth, which emphasised what I've known for a long time, namely that we should all stop being so materialistic. We really enjoyed baking together and distributing the contents of our tin, it was lovely. Then again, I enjoy dressing a certain way, and reading; those are material, are they not?

However, I dress as I like, not as others want me to dress. I do not suffer from affluenza. I would like to learn how to sew all of my clothes.

I think... I don't know. I'm sort-of seeing someone. I definitely like him as a friend, but I usually build up to wanting someone then we have the awkward phase of being with each other before it completely destroys our friendship; I've never exactly been friends with him, but I like him. I stayed at his house one night; he isn't amazing sexually but men can be taught, surely? I don't know why they think rubbing away down there like they're trying to get a stain out is sexy. It just chafes, I know men like it firm and fast, they need to see that women don't. I quite like him, I think. Time will tell. I'm still pulling a little bit to her; I don't want this one to be a rebound because I live close to him and I don't like to shit where I eat, so to speak.

And she is so like the rose
Whose red bloom fades yet beauty grows
With dusky petals and dried out stalks
Crumbling husks where memories walk.

I think this might be the poem. I'm not sure. I wish I knew.

I contemplated putting a picture of myself in a group of people on this blog, and asking if readers could identify me in the group. I decided not to because I'm terrified someone might see it and realise who I am, in reality. I'd be interested, though, to know if my writing correlates with my appearance; on this note, I saw a preview for a Jane Austen film. I detest Jane Austen and her limited social scenery, snobbery and repetitive chick lit drivel, but she did write books that are widely acclaimed. She was a plain spinster, and who should be playing her but Anne Hathaway, a dewy young snowdrop as opposed to a crabbit piece of tumbleweed that they should have cast. Why does this always happen; the ugly or plain woman is left with nothing to aspire to. Not that I expect the film to bear any resemblance to her actual life, but it would be lovely if, for a moment, hollywood stopped churning out bland homogenised beauties and pretended they were either plain or quirky.