Deprivation

Today I kept to the calories, which was surprising; I went down to the kitchen and I was sure I'd crack, but no, 1200 it was.

Tortellini and pesto
an apple and yoghurt
a brie and cranberry roll, of which I left a little
porridge with yoghurt, sultanas and pumpkin seeds

There.

Deprivation isn't the title of that. Deprivation is what I am going through socially; a group of my friends went out tonight, but I can't go as I've got work. I went to the pre-going out get together, which was lovely. One of my friends kissed a girl last night, and thinks she might go out with her; I had an inkling she was bisexual but wasn't really sure. I had a crush on her when we first met, but it's dwindled. I've got a problem in that if I meet someone I like, I build up this perfect image of them and then when they don't conform my opinions of them are shaken; I'm not speaking of appearances, they don't bother me in the slightest, it's the actions or thoughts they have which penetrate my consciousness. She, for example (this girl) is very self centred; she thinks so much of herself she doesn't realise what else is going on, not in a nasty way, just in a dozy sort of way. She chatters an awful lot because she's terrified of being seen as ignorant or not driven, because intelligence and drive are (she believes) her saving characteristics. I know she'd do a lot for me though. I'm jealous of how easy it was for her just to say that she liked this girl; I should make things easier for myself but I hide everything. Anyway, they all trundled off to dance and drink somewhere fun and I'm in my room with an unmade bed, rambling at a blog which noone reads. It could be worse.

Anyway, I'm not going out until the eighteenth. This is when the workload eases, then I only have to think about my dissertation, which is really exciting, but also terrifying. Tomorrow I will get my arse to a library and work properly on my essay. Nineteen days before The End of Work. I'd enjoy it if there weren't such a magnitude of it.