evidently, i don't experience things as rationally as you do.

Hello. If this were a friendship, this would be the awkward bit where I apologised for not answering your phone calls or keeping in touch, and you'd pretend it was no big deal, but you were evidently a bit pissed off. But luckily, it's not. It's a blog, and I'll write when I fucking well like.

That was a bit aggressive. Sorry...

I should currently be in French grammar class, but I was defeated by the distance from my bed to the floor, so I decided not to go. Don't judge me too harshly if you have never had the misfortune of attending a French grammar class. It makes me tremble with fear. I am counteracting the adverse effect my absence will have on my skills as a linguist by watching Sex and the City in French. This kind of education I can get on board with.

So exams are looming, and I am once again reminded of just how bad I am at all of this motivation stuff. My washing basket is brimming expectantly in the corner, and I honestly can't be arsed to walk the ten yards from my building to the laundrette. Pity me, won't you?

I stayed up late last night listening to various slam poets, some of whom were enviably eloquent, some of whom were a little embarrassing. I was discussing the concept with my sister who said that she finds it all a little bit unnerving. And I agree with her to an extent, but I also think that discomfort is sort of the point. So I'll let you make up your own mind while I find some old lasagne or something to eat.

gu





That Buddy Wakefield one makes me well up a bit, so you may want to skip it if you're in a good mood...