Sick with something...

And I don't know what that is.

I ate 1500 today, and that's a generous estimate, and walked 4.4 miles in about an hour and a quarter. I think that'll be about 350 calories gone.

I'm fed up about SW and her stupid Religious Education standoff. Your subject doesn't matter! They get told about it in History and English and all manner of other subjects. She assumes that I'm skiving. I hate that class; I can think of far more useful things to do, and besides, I am not much use in a behaviour function anyway, but I go. I am conscientious about my work, whatever other deficits I might have- I would not shirk, and I am irritated that she assumes this about me. I'd just rather be in French laughing with CW, who is all kinds of brilliant, and helping people get real qualifications. I feel like screaming, "THERE IS SOMETHING USEFUL I COULD BE DOING NOW YOU KNOW."

I'm excited about the play, and nervous that I won't do myself justice, and worried about what my work people will think of it, and whether or not they'll hate me after, or think I'm stuck up, or something. Or just that I'm shit at something I get overly excited about. That would be worst. It's started to creep in, the thought that someone else (Judi Dench, Fiona Shaw, contemporaries at University) would do it better... which I detest. Despite all this, excitement is still the overriding emotion.

Instead, I will just enjoy the words, and feel what it feels like to be Brigit. This is a better way of doing it. Because screw them all, I'm in it and I'm doing it and it's fun. Have fun. I like it and I've got ideas and... I can. Hold it myself. The audience isn't holding me. Do it as if you're just alone in your room.

I'm excited that the poem went down so well with my recalcitrant ones, and that I had such a wonderful time with the girl I found difficult at first. I am excited to be getting better at what I do. I like it, and I didn't think I would this year, but I am glad I've taken the challenging ones because it's more exciting for me. I knew I could do the others, now I am surer. I worry less about others thinking that I am rubbish at what I do. I think that DB probably still does. I wish that she could see me being good at something; I wished she'd drop in on me doing the poem today, but she didn't, or see me talking French, or anything that would make her smile at me more, or stop looking at me as if I'm dim, or shallow. I can't stand that she might think these untrue things; or worse, that she might think awful true things- that I'm an awful narcissist and terribly vain and arrogant at times, and that I know nothing about children and I'm too posh to relate to people, how could I possibly... the list goes on. All of the disdains I heap upon myself in her name. I judge myself harshest by those I'm in awe of. I can't fathom whether or not MH likes me either; I think she does, more than she did anyway, but she's lovely to everyone, and I can't work out whether it's me or not... she likes me more now I've made fun of myself a bit. I wonder if people assume I don't? I know exactly how ridiculous I am, ludicrous most of the time...

I'm worried about my course, that work paid for. I want it to be perfect; I want to get as good as I can in it, and I'm worried I won't and it'll be a waste of their money and people will be disappointed.