Stressed mess.

Ok.

I did an essay today, I've started another, and I've started my presentation too. It's all going to be fine.

Good things about today were that I got up early, and I did the work, and I was productive, and I had family fun.

I ate:

a chocolate off the christmas tree-50
an eat natural bar-300?

some pea salad- 100

salmon, vegetables and rice for lunch-300

stew and vegetables for dinner-400

three bits of chocolate covered toffee- 150

a pear- 40

This is my best day in ages, and it's over the count of what I'd deem acceptable, but I did feel good when I did it. If I ate like that every day I'd probably stop stressing and lose weight. I shouldn't be writing it down and obsessing over it at all, it's not what makes me feel good, or even what's helpful.

I got the old jealousy for my brother today, he's gone for a sleepover and left me to babysit my smallest sister tomorrow as well as today. He knew I wanted to go to the library. I don't think I'm jealous of his social life, it's my parents- they said he couldn't go, he'd be picked up at ten and then my Dad said he could. He's promised to be home by half nine in the morning, but I know he won't be and I won't be able to do my work. I hate that he can wrap people round his little finger so easily, and that they let themselves be wrapped. It probably is just that I can't do that with people. That's why I'm jealous. He's got something I haven't got.

I got jealous of his bandmate today because everyone accepts that he's a bad singer, and yet he's still allowed to sing with the band. I used to be a terrible singer; I've improved since, but all the time my parents used to say how I couldn't sing and shouldn't go for musicals etc. But they sympathise with this friend, saying it's a shame, etc, instead of that he's plain crap. I'm jealous that I didn't get that opportunity, and that people aren't as honest with him as they are with me. I know that even though I'm no Mariah Carey I'm better than him, and it isn't fair that he gets to sing in a band and I don't. I hate him.

Lastly, I'm jealous of my brother because he is talented and in a band and loves it. I act, but I'm not an amazing actress, I'm OK at best. My parents faces light up when his band is mentioned, because he is a good guitarist, and they're always saying how proud they are of me, but they haven't got anything at all specifically to be proud of. I'm clever but not in a way you could boast about it. I'm good round the house, but I'd rather die than have them use that adjective to describe me. The best I can say is that I'm independent. My brother's charismatic, and mega-talented, and my parents don't really care that he's shit in school because he can be in this band.

Really, what I want is to be talented. If I knew I was amazing at something it wouldn't matter what anyone else thought. But what on earth is that going to be?

I'd love to climb a mountain and reach the highest peak, but I don't enjoy it half as much as dancing cheek to cheek

I detest that all I can write about is you, but if I'm truly pathetic here, I won't be in actuality.

So.

When I curl up on the sofa, I like to pretend you're there, but I know it's not the real you I'm pretending, it's you but you're not you because I'm pretending that you'll say things in a different tone to how you do now, it's a tone I've seldom heard you ever use. I'm adoring a manifestation of my own making. I might resolve to sort it out after the holiday when we are face to face.

You know all about this, and I think you don't feel the same way. I shouldn't fantasise because it isn't harmless. I used to feel like I was iron among glass, crack crack crack, and now you make me feel like someone else is iron too. Then again, sometimes I can't stand you.

I don't know why I have to keep reworking this by writing it out. I know exactly how it is, and how I'm floundering utterly.

Here's how it would go:

I'd come round to yours and we'd sit about for a while, chatting about nothing in particular and everything as usual. We'd tease each other. We usually end up stretched out on your bed in reality, only you always push me away after a bit, even if you're the one that's initiated it.

This time you wouldn't push me away. You'd nudge my head a bit and kiss my cheek, and I'd respond by kissing you back. Then I'd smile a bit. You'd say, in your tired happy voice, something like, "Oh, you're so hideously ugly". I'd respond with, "At least I'm not growing back testicles," but I'd say it softly. Then I'd stroke your face and kiss you again.

I like that little noise you make when you're tired and you sit down, or when you're frustrated with yourself. You're too goddamn beautiful for your own good, and I'd like to be able to tell you that, even if it's only by intonation when I tell you you're hideous.

Smile for a while and let's be jolly, you don't have to be so melancholy.

Ah, but he wouldn't do anything for me. I wonder sometimes if he's got a deep dark fetish that he won't tell me because he's so reluctant to divulge. I'm worried he won't like me anymore because I've got fatter over Christmas, as always happens when I go home, because I snack and eat my body weight in chocolate and crap. He says he doesn't like to comment on appearance, or judge on it, but he does notice it nevertheless, and I'm not standing much of a chance anyway.

Here are some good things about today

1. I managed to get my Dad a birthday present I know he wants.

2. I did some more of my essay, and it'll be simple to stick some more quotes in, synopsise and link together.

3. I know a bit about workhouses.

4. I got a phonecall from him late last night and I didn't find it hard to talk to him, like I usually do on the phone with people.

My brother said I had a phone voice today. I don't want to be the sort of person that has a particular voice just for the phone, I want to be me all the time.

He just said:


You do have self confident to a degree. You just work yourself up into weird frenzies of insecurity every so often for no seeming reason, but overall I'd say you were pretty confident.

They're contradictory.

Abortion.

I am currently undecided as to whether I am pro-life or pro-choice. I wouldn't picket, either way, I don't think it's for me to force my beliefs on someone else.

I vote liberal democrat, I'm agnostic and I was brought up pro-choice. I always wonder what I'd do if I got pregnant; abortion would be a real option. I'm not sure what I'd do.

Equally, I feel that it isn't my place to judge other's decisions. What it comes down to is whether or not I believe the foetus is alive. I think it is alive, but then I think about rape pregnancies, or teenage pregnancies, and it seems ridiculous to say that they should be forced to carry the foetus full term, even if it's adopted afterwards. I think really, that in any circumstance, nine months and a child at the end is a life-changing thing, and that some people aren't ready for it.

Abortion is a taboo; I just read an article by a pro-lifer that says that it shouldn't be called pro-choice because the foetus hasn't got a choice. A foetus hasn't got a choice on whether it was conceived, but noone's out there campaigning for foetuses not to be conceived or not, to give them that choice. Pro-abortion sounds like you're pro-aborting every foetus, like some kind of rampant Harold Shipman. It hasn't affected me personally (for all I know).

I probably would, at this time in my life, have an abortion if I got pregnant, touch wood I won't. I don't think I'd feel bad about it either. I do want kids at some point, but I wouldn't align myself with the pro-life faction just yet.

Good things

1. I've done all of the planning for an essay, now just to write it.

2. My workload is slowly becoming feasible.

3. My family is great.

4. Last night we were talking about people, me and him, and we were joking about one truly hideous girl. He said she'd have to learn to dance. I asked him why dance, and he didn't answer, he just changed the topic. He said to me once that I was a natural mover, a natural dancer. I hope he doesn't know how much I like him, because then he'd hate me, he's fickle like that. We talked about love. He thinks love is like a warm slipper. I said it was like writing an essay. I don't think it is, really. I said it was just boring in the end, just something everyone ends up doing.

Neither of us said I love you, but that's a stupid thing to say anyway at this stage. I don't think there's any such thing as unrequited love, it has to be two way, especially the non platonic kind. Love has to have some sort of power balance on both sides. I don't think I'd like him to say I love you, I like it when he says "oh, I hate you," and he doesn't mean it at all. I like disagreeing with him, to be disagreeable, but it's agreeable in the end because he likes disagreement and I like playing devil's advocate. I'd hate it if he started to say I love you all the time, it's so tedious and worryingly clingy. I think I could deal with someone never saying it, as long as I knew they did feel it.

Good things that happened today

1. I saw him and gave him some cake. It wasn't as good as last night.

2. I chatted to housemates.

3. I was resourceful with plard.

4. I organised going home tomorrow. I've done half the packing.

God, the irritating thing is that he apologised for being harsh. I hate harsh apologies- that's like saying, "I'm sorry you're such a pussy." I'm not a pussy, and I detest the inference that I am one. I'm so irritated. He also thought my script was bad, but he's written worse and was probably jealous. It wasn't that bad for something I knocked off in two hours, including conceptualising it.

Here's the list:

10 minstrels
chocolate cake
chocolate ice cream
an apple
pasta, tuna, broccoli and tomato

this is a shit eating list. I have ate utter crap, I feel tired, I've probably gained a few stones. Chocolate cake alone is about 750, so all in all it's probably been about 1500.

1984, arguments over.

I just had an argument with him about 1984. I think it's implicit that the proles will eventually overthrow the regime in the end (though for good or bad we can't tell). He thinks it's just a dire warning about the future, and that nothing will ever change. He kept saying he's read biographies of Orwell, and that that's what Orwell thinks. History tells us differently- regimes are toppled, and people do win.

We had this debate on the internet whereas usually we'd have it face to face. I got infuriated. I felt like screaming by the end, though it is touchy subject matter because I adore dystopian fiction, and the idea of anyone thinking they know more about it when they're not even an academic irks me. That's arrogant in itself, really. It's one of my favourite books, and I don't mind other people having opinions on it, but I hate it when people consider their opinions are of a higher standard than my own.

This all reads ridiculously. It's just because I like being the best all the time at everything and I can't handle it when I'm not, especially on something I care about so much. I care about him so much too.

I beat him on Ovid. No I didn't, he used not to like it, I said I did, now he's re-read it and acquiesces.

Well, I like being stubborn. It's one of my saving graces. No, it's a fault I like in myself.