Monday is my day for doing beeploads of studying. I have a computing class in Keynes between 11 and 12 (which I mainly spend checking my e-mail) and a lecture there between 4 and 5, and between 2 and 3 I usually end up selling rock-society-event tickets outside the bar, which isn't my job, but Sarah The Vice Goth generally forgets, dies or both. I don't mind, because on the rare occasion someone comes to buy a ticket from me, I get some good conversation out of the deal. Anyway, it makes sense to remain in the college for the entire four hours, working in the bar. As I'm relatively teetotal and the bar's often not very busy, this works very well indeed - my only distractions are the jukebox playing Avril Lavigne, that annoying Justin Timberlake song that sounds like it's going to be "Prince Charming" but isn't, and "Love Is All Around" all the time, and the extremely tall girl with half-blond half-brown hair who always goes in there. She's distracting, because I have this theory that she is actually Zak (a Beercartian who looks just the same, apart from being male) and this is his secret life. They both agree with this theory.

This week, however, I was not successful, on account of receiving an e-mail from Gav, my bandmate (yes, "my" "band"'s only "existed" for a few months, you haven't missed anything), during the computing session. For the last few weeks, he's been sans phone, so we've been having an unsuccessful game of "I'll be in the bar between these hours" e-mail tag, but this time, I'd intercepted one of his messages in time. So we met up, and although he now has a phone, he appears to be sans lighter, and ionisation caused by him striking many matches made my hair go incredibly static. Also, an unprecedented occurrence occurred: three members of the band were within the same two feet at the same time! (The other one being Goth Chris, who also works in the bar on Monday, although generally rather less successfully than I do, due to not being relatively teetotal.) We're even thinking about a first session next week!

When we parted ways, I worked for a few minutes, but I was soon joined by Vicky, Lex who was inordinately happy because her boyfriend bought her a PlayStation2 (I keep asking if I can share him, but she refuses every time, warg!) and Sarah The Vice Goth, who was inordinately happy because she was about to purchase her long-awaited £150 pink thigh-high stiletto boots. They stuck around for about an hour. I did a bit of work, then realised I'd have to go to the Park Wood shop to buy certain provisions the campus shop doesn't supply. Just as I was about to set off, I ran into Anna The Goth, and when I got back, Sophie came along. So, a highly sociable afternoon, but not an entirely productive one.

After lectures came the usual mad dash home to exchange my backpack for my mini-one, take off surplus clothes as necessary (it wasn't yesterday - I decided the student body should bear the brunt of two pairs of neon green tights and the PVC dress) and eat, before going to the rock soc meeting. We were discussing the upcoming live music events. "We've got loads of metaaaaal," I said, "but can anyone think of any other good indie and rock bands we could get?"

"Yeah," said Adrian, "a few days ago, the Foo Fighters said on the radio that they'd play anywhere for free."

We spent the rest of the meeting discussing how cool it would be to get them. Consequently, I have spent most of today e-mailing people with all the stuff I was going to say instead . . . but I did go to the Foo Fighters' website, where I begged on their message boards to get them to play in Canterbury. [Sadly it didn't work, although apparently they did play in someone's kitchen.]

The Beercartles (oh no, it's those phantom 'l' endings again!) was none too shabby. The music was un peu pue (means poo, but pronounced more interestingly, as well as being an anagram of peu), but Sarah got "Boys Don't Cry" and "Vision Thing" played, an achievement second only to blinding the clientele with her disturbingly pink boots - those that weren't blinded by my green tights first, that is. (Gah! Da Canterbury goth biatches be stealin da pinkness off of me! First Stef, now Sarah! Only Anna assuring me repetitively that she'll never succumb keeps me non-homicidal.) wore his new cyberclothes, entertained me with his most recent bizarre dream, and I had a good natter with .

Weirdness: I got her phone number at the end of the night. Since my phone only stores ninety numbers, and I have that many on there, every time I add someone, I have to get rid of someone. I decided it was finally time to get rid of (evil former-friend-with-benefits) Chris's home number, on account of the facts that:

1. I know it off by heart anyway. (Not because I used to stare it at lovingly, but because I have a good memory for numbers at the best of times, and it's Smill's number, which I used to call a lot, + 88).
2. He doesn't live there anymore.
3. He's evil.

The weird thing is that a couple of minutes later, I spoke to metaller Chris, who is interested in being in the band part time, so I got his phone number, and was able to store it without any confusion arising!

Today, Soppygit and Jo, who are Christmas-obsessed, could hold onto their presents for me no longer, so I am now in possession of "I Was A Teenage Dominatrix" (which I was going to get myself before Soppygit said she'd get it for me), a large quantity of mini-Mars Bars, After Eight Mints, bright pink nail polish (which is v. cool, because just yesterday I was complaining to Sarah about the fact that I didn't have any - I wanted to lend her some to go with her boots) and a bright pink fluffy pen.

Excessive bright pinkness! Hooray! The world is a better place!

Friday 6 December 2002

You know you're cracking under stress when you have 23470242342 things to do, but you forget about them all and spend seven hours playing "Day Of The Tentacle" (which Bryn and myself prefer to call "Day Of The Testicle" - tis a point and click computer game and highly funchie), staying up until 4.30am, when you have to get up at 8 the next day.

And the next day you write journal entries about it instead of trying to book Sikth and / or Vacant Stare. (Yes, they seriously might be interested in playing at UKC.)

Being me, I still feel perfectly awake, but I am so glad term ends in a week. Tonight though: The Pit. Thanks to the three and a half hours of sleep (and the four I got on Tuesday, due to total live-music-event-induced insomnia) I'll have to wear whiteface, or everyone will be too scared to approach due to the cavernous bags under my eyes.

I'll write more next lifetime, but that shouldn't be too far away.

Sunday 8 December 2002

The Pit was wondrous! For once, we had no technical problems! The air guitar competition we held (prize: a book on how to play it containing an air guitar! Well, a blow-up one! What could be better?) attracted more interest than I'd expected, and through it I got to inflict "Warheads" by Extreme on all present. (Although I missed it, as the stupid union didn't give us any security guards - despite me asking for them three times - so we only got some half way through the night, and I had go to brief them.) But I had a fine time dancing and chatting, and although attendance was lower than usual, the crowd seemed solid and happy.

Also, ever since I heard of the band Static X, I've always wanted to use the phrase "static ex". The problem was, I after that, I never came across anyone who was particularly static, much less rather determined by their ex factor. Other super-pleasing thing: in the three days before it, I'd had "Destillat" by Das Ich well and truly stuck in my head, but I didn't own a copy. But! Without any prompting, it was the first thing Anna played during the sound check!

Afterwards, I went home with two men, two women and Bryn's new toy. It wasn't terribly interesting, though: one of the women was Soppygit, who lives there; Vicky and Zak left after helping bring Bryn's equipment (haha) inside; and Bryn's new toy is a Sword 2 (a rather funchie disco light) which was content to sit quietly under the stairs. Still, I went on to have a rather nice weekend with Bryn, although we both had colds, I had to go to the sorting office of dume (which is miles away) to retrieve a package, I didn't get any work done and I was kept awake for most of the next two nights by Pit-related hallucinations, rock soc committee meeting-related hallucinations, and Hearing Voices.

Much as I love the rock society, I'm starting to very much look forward to ending my tenure as president.

Wednesday 11 December 2002

On my way home from the Beercart on Monday night, I noticed a hair bobble and the key to a pair of handcuffs lying on the ground, in close proximity. Naturally, I picked both up, thus beginning a Random Stuff In My Pockets Collection and had amusing thoughts about the troubles this might bring to the owner of the handcuffs. Although the key looks the same as the one I already own, and so the handcuffs are probably the same as mine (owned solely for costume purposes I assure you!), and consequently have safety release mechanisms . . . one of my safety release mechanism stopped working within a day of buying the handcuffs! Oh wahaha! as Disturbed would say.

Sunday 15 December 2002

Yesterday, me and Bryn (who was staying for the weekend) went into Canterbury. I was dead organised and did all the stuff I had told myself to do:

- Bought train ticket home (for 23rd December).
- Posted Unlit's Christmas card.
- Bought cheese spread (which was in a special offer - half price - hooray!)
- Bought a new computer keyboard, since my old one has a sticking out space bar. This didn't bother me for the first few years of my owning it, but after months and months of not being able to use my own computer for various reasons, I must have developed a habit of resting some finger or other in that position because now whenever I'm using it, I accidentally create extra spaces everywhere, and if I have a little think about what to write next, the cursor shoots off to Outer Mongolia.
The new keyboard seems quite nice so far. It lacks the slippery keys of my old one and F12 is a bit too close to the backspace key for my liking, but the keys make a pleasant click and I think I'll get used to it.
- Bought light bulbs.
- Spent a couple of hours on the rock soc eleven-til-eleven. (i.e. sitting in pubs for twelve hours straight.) The turn out wasn't fantastic - just us and Iain, Chris, Laura, Goth Chris and Big Ben - but considering all the ickle firsties had been kicked out of their colleges, it was none too shabby either, and much nail paintage and expired credit card destruction was undergone.

I also ended up buying a second hand version of "Gabriel Knight 3". But hey:
1. Bryn insisted on taking me into a second hand bookshop. Was I supposed to resist everything it contained?
2. It was £4. (I'm sure it was about £40 a couple of years ago.)
3. It's a point and click adventure game. My favourite.
4. It's immense - we played it for over six hours, and even using a walkthrough, only got about 12% of the way through the game.
5. It's all about Rennes-le-Chateau which is soooooo funchie.
6. It's all pretty and stoof!
7. The main character has a nice bottom.
8. I resisted stripy tights and UV bracelets and other funchieness in Siesta.

Anyway. What I didn't think to do, and consequently, didn't do, was buy some fingerless gloves. So now I try to type in Eliot computer room, my hands are freeeeeezing! So gah! Will have to go back into town tomorrow, as I've got to do my dissertation on campus in the next week, and I don't foresee the temperature growing any more favourable during that period.

Other stuff:
- Bryn and I were supposed to play Warhammer on Friday night - we had the room booked, but couldn't be bothered. But then Sarah The Vice Goth invited us to a party, and the majority of the people there had some interest in Games Workshop, and it ended up being the dominating topic of conversation. (That, and who Grendel were, since I made Sarah a CD of all the Sheep On Drugs songs I own, but that only filled about half the CD, so I stuck some Grendel on there too - and Sarah playing it resulted in many, 'Who's this?'s. I felt so pleased.) I also noticed it was something of an Abi's exes shindig - of the eight people present, Sleeve, Goth Chris and Gee were among them.
- Bryn and I watched the first half of Buffy season 6, at last.
- Supposed to be doing dissertation or reviewing CDs now, but it's too cold! Going round to Sleeve's house for filmage instead. It had better be warm!

Monday 16 December 2002

Number of sofas accidentally fallen asleep on this academic year thus far: 4.

What sort of rock soc president am I? I am so unhardcore it's a disgrace!

To my credit, I managed to get through "Mission Impossible 2" and "Dark City", but drifted off three quarters of an hour into "The Gift" at 12.15. Neither the credits nor Tiggs leaving woke me up, but luckily, I managed it before Sleeve went to bed, and he walked me home. I felt surprisingly ok, but didn't wake up until 11.15 this morning - not good in terms of Dissertation Do-age.

I then spent about an hour looking for one of my armwarmers, without success. I even went through the bin, in case it had fallen in there, but no. So here I sit, one arm toasty-warm and the other freezink.

But my hands are ok. I realised, as I lay in bed last night, that I actually contemplated buying fingerless gloves less than two weeks ago - not to save my poor hands from frostbite, but because black leather fingerless gloves look bitchin' on other people. But on my ickle hands, they look thoroughly silly, so they went unpurchased, and off I went into town this afternoon with the sole intention of buying others. (Where I only saw four people I knew, but among them were both the people I spent yesterday evening with!) I got funchie ones - black wool ones for £1.50 - but now I reach the computer room, it isn't that cold after all, and I don't need them! Wah! Oh well, twas good exercise, even though I've just more than negated it all by eating three Mars Bars.

Now it's time for Diss-er-ta-tion! (To the tune of "Elevation" by U2.) Or e-mailing Bryn. One or t'other.

Later

The computer room has just been invaded by three men avec scaffolding who have switched some of the lights off. Eek! Oh well, semi-darkness = good excuse not to do any dissertation stoof, yes?

Tuesday 17 December 2002

W00t! Two men on my bed in the space of twenty seven hours! While the light was off!

Admittedly, the second one was just Sleeve, who was simply there to observe The Hole (ahem, that would be "The Hole", the film, which I own on VCD), but this isn't a claim I've been able to make for about two years. I feel all popular and stoof!

Shock horror scandal! I went to The Beercart Arms last night! Best things about the evening:

1. Matt asked me, "Are these gloves yours?" of a pair he'd found. They weren't, but he said, "Go on! Steal them!" Since it had already been a Day O Crime (as I have no money, I stole two rolls of Evil Pink Bog Roll O Dume from the Eliot College toilets - well, each one can only cost them about a penny to make) and they were nice black wool ones, I did just that. They weren't fingerless - so my earlier purchase hadn't been in vain - but it was probably the first day in my life - and will probably be the only day in my life - I stuck my hands into three sets of gloves. (The other set being the ones I wore on my way to town, which are leather.) W00t!

2. Afterwards, I went back to Sarah The Vice Goth's house with a bunch of people for a partay. On the way, some bloke (called Alex, I think) stole a tree! It was only about four feet tall, but still! He took it all the way back to Sarah's, where she and her housemate put tinsel and fairy lights on it.

I've had some weird dreams lately. James said last night he didn't want to hear about them if he wasn't in them, but that's just too bad!

On Sunday night, John procured an office in Keynes college from which to sell Pit tickets. There were about five of us rock soc types in there, when Mel came in and said Sarah - who her family often went swimming with - had sexually abused Fear Factory hoodie Alex. Then we all started playing a warped version of Lemmings.

Last night, I dreamed that after the Beercart Arms, I brought back a few people for a party at my house, but Zak and some of his friends (invented by my subconscious) gatescrashed it, and Nisha, Ameythyst and their crowd turned up too. Zak's friends kept trying to smoke, and I kept throwing their cigarettes outside, because I didn't want the fire alarm to go off, as I didn't want to wake up Soppygit who was asleep upstairs. But I couldn't keep an eye on everyone. I got stressed and walked up the road with Jen, who liked to speak to Nina (a character in a David Belbin novel) in times of trouble. I called her, apologised for waking her at 2.45am, and asked what I should do.

She said to call the pigs, so I dialled 999 - I was impressed, because my phone made the call without me saying "yes" - but it turned out the police were on strike. But Jen and I saw a police car coming down the road, so I hailed it. The police officer said that because I'd started the party, I'd have to hang on the gallows all night like the rest of the attendees. I was really scared, but, along with the people supposed to be at the party, I managed to slip away to Sarah's house, leaving the police to deal with everyone else.

The next day, I was walking through some park, where I saw Nisha, who gave me an earful about what I'd done. I apologised profusely and she forgave me. I arranged to play chess with Iain at noon and to meet Anna The Goth on my school field at 4pm the following day.

Riiight.

It is fast becoming a day of gah! My favourite computer room has been closed, and now I am in one where none of the punctuation keys are where they're supposed to be on my keyboard, and some bloke keeps rambling to me about his problems with using the printer!

Now! Time to start my dissertation! I mean it this time! Really!

Wednesday 18 December 2002

Cursed! My dissertation is cursed, I tells ya!

Apart from the fact that it's bleeping impossible, in aid of it, I was trying to access some data on a disk. Now, me being me, I hadn't actually put the disk in the disk drive. But instead of the computer giving the usual "Beep you, I won't do what you tell me!" message . . . it reset itself!

I didn't lose much in the way of unsaved data, but eep! Over-reaction much? I have changed computer so that one can calm down by taking a deep breath and having a nice cup o tea.

Later

Oh Dear.

I was very distressed upon doing a Yahoo search for '"my generation" lyrics' the first and third result concerned Green Day's version of that song, and the second concerned the Limp Bizkit song with the same title.

Sunday 22 December 2002

Dilemma!

I have loads of work and stoof to do.

But! Even with the central heating off, my bedroom is like a sauna. I have my fan running full blast (well, it only actually has one speed), but it is ineffectual. So, thanks to this and the fact that I stayed out until 4.30am last night and woke at ten, I am without energy. And consequently, I have done nothing all day but read Victoria Beckham's autobiography and watch Buffy S6 E15.

Now the kitchen, next door to my room, having much airflow and no radiator, is positively cold. The moment I step into it, I shudder and retreat to my bedroom to put on a hoodie before venturing out again.

The solution, it would therefore seem, would be leave the door between my bedroom and the kitchen open.

But! On Friday eve, the doorbell rang. Bryn had said earlier that he might be visiting at the weekend, and since he's never one for advance warning, much as I beg him repetitively for it, I thought he had arrived.

But not so. My visitors were instead two very business-like carol singers. Despite the fact they sung "king" instead of "kin", I gave them 40p. But I am not really in a financial position to provide such luxury to every potential chancer, and so began my pretence of Not Being In.

Unfortunately, the kitchen is at the front of the house. Its window has only a net curtain. My room is directly behind the kitchen. Decidedly ungoth as it is, apart from when watching films and sleeping, I like to have the light on.

Friday night was manageable, because I'd got deeply into Working On The Novel, a much easier task in excessive temperatures than working on the dissertation. Saturday night was also easily survived, by going to Goth Chris's 19th birthday party, which was fun (Rammstein fan Ian brought a sword round, which accidentally ended up being put through the wall - ah, student digs at their finest!) but slightly odd. I hadn't expected to know many people there, but I also hadn't expected a significant proportion of them to comprise Chris's Friends From Back Home (west Kent) - people with poshness levels I hadn't encountered since October 1999, when I had to do an Electronics practical at Cambridge with The Epitome Of Trinity College Boys. Jolly nice people, but somewhat scary.

I was very proud of myself: despite staying there till 4, I managed not to fall asleep on the sofa! I did have to rest my head in "Naked Lunch" a few times, which I started reading when the conversation settled too deeply into the tracks of "this one time, I got totally beeped up on drugs" for me to participate in (yeah, reading the work of one of the world's most famous junkies, that's a good escape route from the topic!) It was quite annoying because as a result I got stark bollock-naked-jam on my nose.

Er, sorry.

But actual sleepiness did not occur! Perhaps my hardcoreness can be redeemed yet!

But somehow I must endure this sweltering evening, and doing so unnoticed is proving more difficult. I know carol singers are reputedly not as cruel and vindictive as trick or treaters, and so probably won't deck your house with bows of holly tra-la-la-la-la-la-la-la if you don't come out and pay, but you never know these days.

I would go to campus, but nooooo, it's all closed for Christmas!

Tuesday 24 December 2002

1. My parents have acquired new Christmas lights. I noticed, because there were some PINK ones among them, which I didn't remember from previous years. Mum was very pleased, because these lights cost a bank-breaking £2.99, whereas the previous set, which she acquired in approximately 1981, cost them £4.50, when £4.50 was worth so much more than it is now.

Oh dear. Despite the fact that neither myself nor Noj are in any danger of having children, she is fast turning into the quintessential grandparent.

2. Their new fake-fire is very blue.

3. The shower has lost all its forcefulness; now it just gives out a big goosh of water which tickles a bit.

4. The computer of extreme slowness has been replaced with a computer of extreme haste! w00t!

5. Muchos cardage and presentage (amongst copies of Physics World and bank bumph). Merci to all those responsible.

I was either touched or amused by the personal messages I got (accordingly, I hope). I now feel like a large geen for barely writing any, but I wrote a few, and they all ended up being along the lines of "I hope you have a good Christmas and New Year in spite of everything bad happening in your life right now" which wasn't very cheerful, so I stopped.

Truth is, I don't want people to have happy Christmases on account of expensive presents and copious amounts of alcohol. I want people to have happy *lives*. But they don't make "happy life!" cards as far as I know. Maybe I should make some? But how would you know when to take them down? And you wouldn't want to leave them up forever, because Christmas and birthday cards can become a source of unhappiness, when you accidentally knock them over for the thirtieth time. (I have four shelves in my room in Canterbury. Four! I ask you. How is a biblio / parvusdiscial phile like myself supposed to survive at any point of the year, much less at Christmas time?)

Thursday 26 December 2002

Dear Zed-The-12-Year-Old,
Put aside the Sweet Valley for a moment and read "Going Solo" by Roald Dahl. It's good, and as a consequence, your 21-year-old self will be able to get on with her revision and CD reviewing instead of reading it.
Ta Kenneth,
Zed The Elder

Other stuff of today: got tortured with Craig David + similar, because Dad was rambling about how he didn't know anything about popular music, so I offered to introduce him to it via the music channels Noj won't let him touch. (Said Noj was in bed at this point in time, and remained there until 2.30, as usual.)

Also, went with parents to see Bewcastle Cross, on account of the fact that it too was preferable to revision and reviewing, but parent-approved. On the way home, I went to Lanercost Priory for the second time in as many days: yesterday, to do the necessary annual church-going, today, so my parents could examine Sommat which was hidden behind boards of pictures drawn by the second most local school. My Dad wanted to buy a book about the place; since it was £3.50 and the buying things system is to put money in a slot, and Mum only had a £5 note, she got me two erasers shaped like SHEEP! (For the most famous thing Lanercost has, after the church, is sheep.) Mint! Naturally, when I got home, I placed them on a box of paracetemol, so I could have Sheep On Drugs.

Since a few Harry Potter fans read this, and it doesn't look like I'm ever going to get round to writing an account of My Time In Oxford and Suffolk, I shall reveal the most interesting part of it now. After spending an enyojable few hours with the most hospitable Jessica, who I'd encountered on the Oxford Goths mailing list the previous day, I spent a night in the house of the children's authors and illustrators Helen Cooper, who my parents used to teach, and her husband Ted Dewan. (They have a website here.) Not only do they have the shed Philip Pullman wrote many of his novels in in their garden(!), but they revealed:

1. That they're friends with They Might Be Giants.
2. Where the drummer from Radiohead lives.
3. That Andrew Lloyd Webber is an evil not-giving-credit-where-it's-due geen.
4. That my former biology teacher / pseudo-godfather was quite attractive before I was born.
5. You know that piece of paper being auctioned off at vast price, regarding the fifth Harry Potter book? Someone got drunk and *showed* it to Ted. Written in a spiral, it summarised the plot. But when Helen asked him what it said, he honestly couldn't remember! Despite Ted not liking the HP books, his not liking them implies that he's read them, and would suggest the words on the piece of paper would mean something to him, interesting or otherwise. But apparently not. Harg!

Monday 30 December 2002

Last night, among other things, I dreamed:

1. Mum was raping me and making me doing logic problems about football players.
2. A guy came round to my old house in Canterbury, supposedly to fix something, but he brought a dozen of his friends, who all looked just like him, with him and asked if he could put on a two-disc edition of "Holywood" by Marilyn Manson. I agreed, and even though Bryn had unplugged the CD player earlier in the dream, it played, after eleven silent tracks on the first disc. Then he and his friends left, before he fixed whatever it was. When I questioned him, he said he was going to hang out with some strange people - did I want to join him? I declined.
3. I got a text message, saying one of the members of one of the bands we're putting on at UKC had been shot in his living room.
4. I was hanging out near my primary school with a group of Beercartians. Katie said something about lesbianism, so I said I'd kiss her, which I did. She asked the group not to tell anyone. Then I kissed Glittery Emily and was trying to kiss Ameythyst when the phone ringing woke me up.