Oh one day we will die, and our ashes will fly, in an aeroplane over the sea

Things I have discovered a renewed love for:

1. My family, in particular the father

2. Him. I was beginning to tire of him because it seemed that we were further apart... but really, we aren't.

3. Neutral Milk Hotel. I liked them as a child, and I didn't know their name, but now I do and I've rediscovered them. I am listening to Aeroplane Over the Sea on repeat. But who is Goldaline? This is a lovely name.

I have kept under count today, but through sheer luck as I've eaten utter crap.

Norah Vincent is the coolest woman. I want to be her, or at least to see what it's like trying to be a man for a while. When I was a child I wanted more than anything to be a boy; I don't know why. I wanted, actually, to be a girl who was so convincing a boy that people were surprised when this wiry, tiny, pugilistic defensive thing was a girl. Of course, I was broad and cumbersome, and too effeminate to fool many at more than second glance. I cut the hair off my Ariel barbie and drew a moustache on it to create an emulatory figure. I wanted the surprise of strangers rather than their acceptance; I was a strange child I suppose. Too much famous five altogether.

Norah says, in her book, that women feel sometimes that they are intruding on mens space. Conversely, and I don't know if this is because I'm young and thus, no matter what, attractive or pitiable to the older generation, I have never felt this way. When with a group of men, I feel that I am one of them, though they may not feel that. I feel... accepted. It might be because I react in a conventionally masculine way; for example, I don't like to hug- I detest the word hug- I prefer to handshake. I rarely discuss emotions, and if I do it will be anger that I express rather than sadness. I can't comfort when I'm in a group; if a friend breaks down one on one, that's ok, but I cannot do it publicly. I feel that I can be a man too, when I am with men. I stand tall (because I'm not afraid of towering over the other girls) and swear, and joke, and discuss serious things, and laugh. Which is what I also do with my closest female friends, but only with them and men. I especially like old men. It's possibly because of a subconscious feeling that I hold a sexual power over them, I don't know.

Norah is exactly right about masculine handshakes and feminine hugs though. I detest the feminine hug, and will eschew it at all costs. It's such a flimsy thing, and incredibly shaded. It can't even be called a hug because it's so wispy and ineffectual. I will hug my very best friends, when they need it, and preferably not at the start or end of every social occasion unless I am forced. Bless Norah for elucidating this, because otherwise I would have continued to feel an emotional stone freak. Otherwise I only ever touch him, or hug him, and he is starting to wonder why... A handshake is far better. This is why I continually instate handshakes instead of hugs.

He said today that I looked like Norah, but softer (he lent me the book) and I was complimented. I am very masculine shaped, with my broad shoulders and flat chest; I wouldn't really even need the tight sports bra. I have got a waist and a huge arse, which mark me as a woman, but I suppose these could be covered. I'd do it for the thrill, and to learn how to talk like a man; how to lean back and make others listen. It would be wonderful to make that an aspect of myself.

I bang on about how I hate my bony decollete, and my flat chest, and my turkey neck, but really I am happy with all of those things because they make me athletic and thin. Without small boobs, my clothes wouldn't look as good, I'd have problems doing gymnastics and I wouldn't be as good a physical mover as I am. Friends with large chests say they're a hindrance, and others say I'm in proportion. My bony decollete and neck (my neck is very thin, and its tendons stand out easily), whilst sometimes disgusting because they remind me of my innards, are good for acting. It's so easy to convey even the slightest tension with them, and others have said they look elegant. I prefer to think that they look strong, and honest. There's an honesty about bones and tendons, even if they are vile to me. I suppose I could even be glad for my broad frame because it makes me look thinner; I would rather be broad, tall and thin looking than small, narrow and have an extra four stones of fat hanging off my frame. I weigh about the same as some friends that have this problem, and I'm glad I don't have their build. Was I a slightly-built girl of 5ft 2 that weighed 10st 7 I'd look horrifically fat; double chins everywhere. At 5ft 9 and the same weight with broad muscles and bones, I look slighter. So I suppose there is really a lot to be grateful for.