Supersize vs Superskinny.

I watched this with a group of friends. It's a terrible programme; I like that it's freakshowing thin and fat, but I don't like the way they force them to eat each other's food. It's terrible; it would freak the thin one out and make the fat one starve then regain.

As both a pork and a freak eater, I really enjoy it but it does give me ideas, like just cut a bit out of your diet, and you'll be like that thin one.

God, I feel shit. I really and truly just want to be in a good play, or to be good at something. Anything. I feel like I'm so incredibly mediocre it's untrue at the moment, I feel talentless and horrible. It's encroaching on everything and hanging over me too much. I'm not really eating properly or sleeping properly. I made the wrong decision with the play. I should have gone with the devised piece. I don't even like him as much anymore because I'm seeing all his faults and my life is tearing at the seams, I just can't hold it together. I can. I've got friends, and I've got a future. It isn't as if I'm cut off.

But it won't be as an actress as I dreamed. There's not even any point in auditioning for theatre school if I can't get the fucking role I want, is there? God, I detest myself at the moment. For my lack of control over my rapidly careering life and my own supine position on the whole matter. I hate hate hate me. All I want to do is exorcise these demons.

Terrible, terrible things.

I didn't get a good part this term in the theatre. This is my last term and I wanted to finish on a high; the play I'm in isn't even that good, and I feel really desperate about it. I could retract my acting but I know the director really well and I don't want it to be awkward. I feel so trapped, in my house, in this play, in waiting for results that could very well be awful, in everything and it's making me really nervous. I don't want to sacrifice my degree for it.

The sickening thing is that a few really good actresses didn't audition, it's a student theatre, and I still didn't get the part I wanted. I feel shit. Utterly shit. I feel sick to my stomach.

Trapped trapped trapped. And all I want is for a way out, or for it to get better, but I don't know how. I feel terrible.

Today's good things.

1. I saw P. and E.. We always laugh together, and I like that. I like them because they are sharp, funny and non-judgemental. We dislike the same people, and this binds us together, really.
2. I saw Dover and Brazil. Though lecturing, they have got my best interests at heart and they like me.
3. I am in a new play which is wonderful. You're directing. I like everyone in it.
4. You're wonderful, even when you're wan and irritable. You know you are different now.

If you would ever let me in, or if I could ever say the magic words that would unlock you. This is all terribly Blackbird, holey soul. If you could ever know how much power you hold over me I would be terrified to trust you with it, though you never have done me any harm and I suspect you know anyway. You worry so about letting me in. Don't you know I want only to kiss your neck? I'd keep it secret. Vampire.

You haven't noticed, because I do whine to you, but I am getting better. I've stopped worrying so much about being fat and started to realise that it's because I'm not the best at anything but I could be. You helped me with that. You tease me, fat and ugly, but then you tell me honestly that I am a six, not a two, or that I am bony. And it's the honesty that helps most of all, because I know others would tell me I'm a ten or that I'm a flawless actress. I don't want you to think I'm overly reliant on you, because I'm not. I would get along without you, but you do save me from myself sometimes. Could you be this honest with me if you felt the same way as I do? I am honest about your plays and your ridiculousness. But if you asked me to rate your aesthetics, it would be a ten. I value that honesty so very much.

I sat watching television with Dover and Brazil tonight, all the time thinking of sitting with you.

You are tired and abashed. You feel bad. Shhh, shhh. Listen to me when I tell you that you are kind and wonderful, that everyone has bad days. That maybe, maybe, you are bipolar, but there is no weakness in that. You don't want a doctor, or to take the pills. I want to hold you and kiss you about the collapse until you feel safe in yourself again.

I maybe wouldn't help at all though I'm so desperate to. I'd maybe annoy you instead. I hate that I can't return to you what you give so easily to me.

People aren't puppets- does that make you sob?

Lordy lord. I'm getting het up because two friends told me my plans weren't feasible, and then not to get Little Bird drunk because apparently she says things she doesn't want to. I think Little Bird needs to let go more, or of more emotively.

Anyway, they only told me what was true, and what they knew (which was more than what I knew) and I was so angry about it. I was angry that they knew more than me. We're all the same age and I felt like a child being told what its best options were by its parents, and I hate feeling behind, and stupid. I went home at the end and just cried out of anger and frustration, that I'm not the expert at anything. I'm not the expert at common sense, I'm not clever or talented. I'm just furious at how far behind my peers I am.

And you just sorted me out, even though you've got so much else to do. You're having trouble sleeping. If it would help, I'd lay your head on my chest, stroke your hair and make you breathe in time with me till we both fell asleep. Unfortunately, I can't cure you like you cure me darling. I say silly things and you talk sense. You said I was saying I wasn't good at anything because I hate making a decision, that being self pitying wasn't doing me any favours and that I've got enough natural talent for things. You said maybe I wasn't wrong. God, you're so very right about me all the time, you always say the right thing at least, when I need you to most. You're honest, about the pitying and sometimes even about how you feel about me. Constructive criticism. I'd so much like to make you feel better.

You got angry because we disagree over someone, and now you have gone to bed. When we disagree you say I am playing the devils advocate, but look dearest, I don't intend to harm you. The thing is that I know what you feel, and that you worry over your own success. You said you worried about the faint- that you were childish, stupid and naive. Then more than ever I wanted to hold you and tell you it wasn't so. How could it be when you hold so much sway over me?

Today you looked wan and far-away. More than anything I wanted to hold you (I did at the end of the day, but then everyone in the play piled on top of us and it became ridiculous). I'd been desperate to do that all day though, but we were in public and I couldn't. You need a rest dearest. I'd like so much to rest you in my arms, I would make for you a cradle to lay and sleep in. I'd tell you not to worry about being N__ M_______ because you are far more to me. I'd never, ever lie to you, and at heart, you wouldn't to me.

Tell me all your woes, misplaced tangential sorrows
As I told you mine, and I shall solve them, sibyl incarnate
I'll unwrap the leaves to form those letters that never were said
And we shall lie in a royal state, till cares abate
Until we know no more what was uttered, or by whom.
I wish I had such a sandy fist as she
That I might wither away the years in your seaworn clasp.
And, like a God, you are lovely. Hades, I think.
I'd be your Proserpina. No snatching of seasons,
Eternally winter for us two.

Big Fat Day today.

I just took some pictures of myself and I looked fat. I was going to go on a rant now, but I decided not to because I've ranted enough in my head. I just hated them. I look like that in real life, undoubtedly, all fat wrinkles and podge. Today I started my period- this could have something to do with it. I also looked up someone that went to my primary school, who is signed to a record label and doing graphic design, who loves her life. She's in a relationship. Of course, she's incredibly thin as well. All of these factors combined to make me feel crap. If she hasn't changed since school, she's probably still a lovely person and excellent at sports too. I feel like I haven't got anything at all going for me; OK, I don't really want to be signed to a record label, but I'd like an acting agent. I haven't got a book out or anything like that. I'm not even thin. I like my friends. This is the only thing I've got going for me at the moment.

I know, as well, that she's a great person because she is confident. God, I think I might cry. I'm so pathetic- this is my main problem. I'm no good at being me because there isn't anything fantastic about being porky and shy. I feel so second-rate all the time, to everyone, and I'm so sick of it. Just, fuck fuck fuck. I desperately want to find out what it is I am brilliant at. I hate being mediocre at lots of things.

See, what I really want to be is the confident girl at the party that everyone likes because she's genial and cool in an indie type way, because she knows exactly what she likes and she isn't scared of saying it. I know three of them, four even, and one is my cousin. I should just start thinking what they would do on such occasions. I'm scared of saying everything, that I want to move, I want a bigger room, a bigger role, I'm bisexual. The only thing I'm not scared of saying is how shit I am. And that's not a great party starter.

Instead I'm shit. Worse than shit, I'm middling. I hate being middling. And fuck, this did turn into a massive rant.

I don't even want him so much anymore. Is this the start of depression? You lose interest? Or am I losing interest in him?

Ok. Here's what I can do to make this better.

Get the housing contract and start moving.

Or ask for the room.

Start thinking what cooler people would do in such situations.

And to be thin?

Fuck knows. Eat more vegetables and do more exercise.

Three good things about today?

I started more of the dissertation.
I saw friends, and had fun for a bit of it.
I made it in for a lecture (that was cancelled, but at least I was there).

God, I wish life was better.

Here are some things I might like to write a book on:

Workhouses

Public grief ceremonies

Gypsies

magic realism

mythology and folk tales

Is punishment more terrifying when you know exactly what's going to happen, or when you face the unknown? Lots of people starved to death (unknown) rather than go to a workhouse (known). You'd think it would be the other way round.

steampunks

I am surprising myself in that I have no desire at all to write about food. No desire to write about eating disorders, or theatre, or anything that I usually read about. I might write on facial modification though. If you could modify your face, how would you tell that someone was really them? What if the face was modified but you had to act exactly the same in every circumstance.

Sinti and Roma.

Interesting, that the holocaust is predominantly remembered in terms of the Jewish population. People remember that other races were persecuted, but none so much as the jewish race. Why is this? Because they were the largest population slaughtered, and because the campaign against them was ran so efficiently? Because the Jewish people have a national identity that can act as a memorial to their suffering, possibly. Gypsies don't have a place; they don't have a written history. I've looked on the internet; I can't even find a site that tells me why gypsies are nomadic. Yes, they've got a place to come from, but now they're disparate in the eye of the media; so they don't get a proper memorial. Memorials need places, not just times.

Disabled people, prostitutes, homosexuals, prisoners of war... all of these factions have also been forgotten, to some extent. We only remember the jewish holocaust; not the holocaust of these others. Why?