This morning, I awoke to the sound of my bedroom wall being knocked down.

Isn't that a great first line for a novel?

Unfortunately, the reality of it was not interesting in the remotest. Because my bedroom is next to the kitchen, which is Evil And Wrong, it has to swop places with the living room. But my current bedroom is ever-so-slightly smaller than the living room and the living room has to maintain its current proportions! Despite the fact it contains beep all, while my bedroom contains beeploads and I only have one housemate left now (I didn't murder the others, really! They've just gone home for the summer), so there's masses of additional communal living space if needbe.

Oh well, it looks quite psychedelic and funchie at the moment, because the wall's currently not up, so I have a bedroom the size of a small planet.

Nevertheless, the arrival of the bloke of oddness and jobness did come as a bit of a shock. I knew it was going to happen, theoretically, but I didn't know when. He said about two weeks ago that he was going to get started straight away and then I never heard from him - until today.

I could have done with a bit of warning, actually, since, ignorant of the time at which I'd be woken, I stayed up until 4am last night playing computer games. I bought five for £25 yesterday, see: "Sam And Max", "Full Throttle", "Grim Fandango", "The Dig" and "Diablo". All of which are point-and-click save "Diablo" (despite it containing a fair bit of pointing and clicking) which is basically Angband with graphics. Deep yoj! Oh well, I'm used to sleepless nights.

You know when you've been playing too much Angband when you go into a shop and say, "Ooh, pretty d6s!"

I spent £8 over the weekend on jelly bracelets. There's surely something wrong with that, especially since I still don't have nearly enough for my arms to look funchie.

Tuesday 3 June 2003

The only distinguishing features of last night's Beercart were finally speaking to Victorian-looking bloke and reading the back of someone's Download festival t-shirt. Of the latter: GAH! The only bands I knew about previously were Iron Maiden (who I desperately want to see, but even if all their sporadic shows sell out before I can get my grubby paws on a ticket, some day, when I am rich, they will do a private performance for me, o yes, even if they are all in wheelchairs by then!), Deftones and Audioslave (neither of whom I was bothered about), so I was thinking it was going to be a small, overpriced affair. But the t-shirt left me wondering did any metal band *not* play there? It would have been horreebul, since the weekend was evilly hot and metal bands are generally painful to watch anyway, if you don't use The Alcohol-Cushioned Armour Of Moshpit Survival (-3 to dextiry, -10 to spelling ability). But I'm still jealous.

Wednesday 4 June 2003

I am solitary by nature and my socialising patterns seems to be, unalterably, friend to all, close to few. As a result, people do not come round to my house very often, for house-visitage is an activity normally performed solely by close friends, and most of them either live with me already or live a long way away.

Now, last Thursday, in Nodnol, I bought Something Rather Dodgy. I do not do this often, since sex is of little importance to me and my tastes are vanilla, as evidenced by the fact that, throughout my twenty-one-month-relationship, I was constantly being encouraged to buy handcuffs, but refused. (I bought a pair five days after the break-up, for part of my Hallowe'en costume.) Nevertheless, I bought Something Else on Thursday.

When I got home on Friday morning, Soppygit's mother was there, collecting Soppygit's possessions. Soppygit's Good Catholic Mother. This was the first time we'd met. For safe passage through the maelstrom of luggage, I had to put my carrier bag containing Said Dodgy Item down on the floor. I gave up ten years of atheism and appealed to her God for it not to fall over.

On Sunday, I went shopping with Klair and since it was so hot and we couldn't be bothered to walk back up Eliot footpath to campus, I asked if she wanted to see my house, after a year of acquaintance. She agreed. Then I remembered that Said Dodgy Item was lying prominently on my bedroom floor. I had to detain her in the living room while I hid it under my bed.

And then! On Monday, the man of oddness and jobness came round, to take down my bedroom wall. Since this would doubtless involve moving my bed, eek! The dodgy item was clearly not safe under there! I had to find a new hiding place and quick!

After my rude awakening on Monday and subsequent late nights, I decided I'd be best off sleeping in Jo's vacated room until my bedroom wall had been successfully moved.

Today, however, the doorbell rang. I answered it and found a friend, come to return some Maths notes of mine. As it was raining, I invited her in - but not to the disaster-zone living room or bedroom - to Jo's room.

Apart from the furniture, there were exactly four objects in it, which were therefore all very visible with the quickest of glances. My pillow, my sleeping bag (with aforementioned dodgy object hidden in the toe), my wallet (can't be too careful these days), and the book I'm currently reading.

"Lucifer Rising" - a book about satanism (in popular culture). It's being read with the sole intention of increasing my knowledge on this interesting subject, but my friend wasn't to know that.

My friend is on the committee for one of the university Christian societies.

Later

w00t! Got a first for my degree! Yoj! Praised be Mykos the Sheep! Long may he reign!

(For those of you not familiar with the British university system, a first is the best possible degree result you can get. They're not awarded often.)

Afterwards, I tried to treat myself. On Saturday, I'd seen some funchie stoof in (appropriately) Funchie Monks - a leather jacket with studs and tassles, a cheap bug backpack and a v. pritty dress - but my companion at the time insisted on me resisting. But yesterday, I saw a girl on campus with a bug backpack, and indeed, today, it was no longer there. Nor was the dress. And I decided the jacket just wasn't worth the price. So all I ended up buying was a copy of The Big Issue, since it had Morrissey on the front cover. Only for me to discover that the price has gone up to £1.20. Quel rip off! I wouldn't mind, if it was well-written, but it isn't!

Friday 6 June 2002

Fleur has been writing lots of entries lately which are making me hyper! So I apologise in advance for the hyperness of this entry and my resulting inability to write for beep.

Housemate Jo gotted a 2:1 today! So did Kimble who I have probably never mentioned before, but no matter. w00t!

My Mummy sent me twenty pounds for doing well in the exams! I am not impressed! When I got my GCSE results, she boughted me "Be Here Now" by Oasis. When I got my A Level results, she boughted me £30 of albums. So I thought I was going to get more this time, due to inflation and a degree being much harder than A Levels. But no! Perhaps because I was twenty one when I gotted it, rather than twenty, like I should have been, she has deducted poundage because my additional age make it easier? Or perhaps she believes I am getting ficker in my old age (which is indeed true) and think £20 is more than £30? O well, since I had forgotten to expect any monetary reward, I am still pleased.

I am useless at going to parties. I really wanted to go to Sleeve's last night, because I told many people I would, and it was my last chance to see several of them until Mykos-knows-when. But, since I am not too fond of parties, because I always end up only getting to talk to the sitting person next to me, to whom I find little to say, I decided not to go until 10pm. Then my ankle was killing me too much to move, since I have blisters on my feet, which make me walk in a skewed and painful fashion. I crossed my legs to make the ankle pain go away, but this gave me severe pins and needles in the sole of one of my feet. And by the time they went, it was 11pm, and since I'd got up at 5.30am that morning and was behind on sleep anyway, I was too knackered to go.

Tonight, there is one at Stef's, but it's getting abeeet late and I is tired again. O well, I think I will live. What a shame.

Sunday 8 June 2003

People keep asking me if I've dyed my hair. This is understandable, since, on account of:

1) not having dyed it since 1 March
2) my dyer always missing the same bit
3) me spending several hours in the sun-she-ine

my roots are very yellow. (My hair is light brown by nature, but the evil sun bleaches it.)

The trouble is, they keep asking if I've dyed it *red*. And, indeed, there are streaks of blood red throughout, although I have never had the mildest hint of red in my hair, naturally or artificially, in my life.

Not only that, but after many hours outside yesterday, I am sunburnt. I didn't think to wear any sunscreen, because:

1) recently I've sat outside for many hours at a time in the sun-she-ine, with no negative consequence
2) the weather looked cloudy and indeed remained partially so all day.

But no, the ultraviole(n)t rays got me anyway. The worst of it is, I'm not sunburnt all over. The top half of my face is all red and stuff, as are bits of my neck and upper arms; the rest of me is my usual ghostly self. Resulting look? Tragic. Hazel's photos from yesterday fail to convey the redness of it all (only my hair's insanity - I tried to brush it, but it made Hazel's hairbrush break - and the scary magnitude of my chest), but although I'm not especially vain, if the Beercart wasn't so dark, I would have to become a hermit until recovery.

Yesterday, I went to Margate (a seaside town in the far east of Kent) to meet my online friend Hazel. Since I knew its chav quotient to be higher than even Sittingbourne's (though not as great as Sheppey's), I went as undercover as possible: blue jeans, fluorescent pink t-shirt, purple jacket. Obviously, I had to remain enNewRocked and spikydogcollared, but my plan worked! Hazel wore more black than I did and I didn't hear a "beepin gothics" or "grunger!" all day!

(Why "grunger" anyway? Grunge as a Mass Movement has been dead since the early 90s and the number of actual grungers I know can be counted on two fingers.)

However! I received more comments about my boots than I have ever heard in all my years of wearing them! I think I know why:

1) In Canterbury and Nodnol, there are people who are goffer than moi. Its denizens have seen it all before.
2) In Carlisle, Sittingbourne and The Random French Towns I Visited In July 2001, they are not used to goths, but, as they not being used to visitors either, they are too stunned to say owt.
3) But, in seaside towns, they are used to visitors, and so express their delight when one bizzarrer than the rest comes along.

All the comments were positive, mind, as they nearly always are.

Anyway, we went to the beach, which had funchie sand. There, we noticed a man wearing yellow shorts. This would have been worrying enough anyway, except they were ripped at the back, and we couldn't help but see FAR too much.

We also went to Dreamland, a theme park. To my surprise, it wasn't busy at all, although it was teeming with a worrying breed of people I'd never encountered before: chav (former) asylum seekers. It's just so scary to observe people whose genetic makeup is so atypical of the chavs I know and loathe, who have been converted so quickly to the "fashions" and shouting "This beepin ride's blatantly wicked, innit" in unrecognisable foreign languages!

I've been to theme parks before, but, on account of having a mother incapable of seeing the thrill of fear and nausea, I'd never been on any rides that went upsidedown or round in more than one direction at once. However, I was determined to try everything, if my stomach permitted.

Fortunately, there wasn't anything that went upsidedown. The three rollercoasters were all rather tame even by my standards. We also went on the carousel (twice), a random ride that went round and round and I went on the log flume. This would have been fine, if it had been possible to escape from the boat without risking a broken ankle, and they hadn't used salt water . . . and I would have felt happier if I'd been strapped in a bit better (like, at all) too. But it was worth it for the two breath-taking plunges.

The waltzer, though. I think, bearing in mind our age, the guy operating it decided to go evil on us, without any regard to the possibility that I hadn't been on a waltzer in my life. The first session was funny and exhilerating, but afterwards, he wouldn't let us out! And the second time felt like a form of torture. I didn't mind the spinning round so much, just the fact that we went so fast that my neck was thrown backwards heavily into the bar behind it and the salty sea air rapidly dried out my gasping mouth.

After a rest and a drink, we went on this fairly innocuous looking ride. Yes, it spun in two directions at once, but how bad could it be? Very - for me anyway (Hazel later went on it again). Not only did it go faster than it looked, but I'd failed to notice the pods went up and down too - and possibly sloped at the same time? I didn't feel in any danger of vomitting, just very woozy, like I did while watching both "Lord Of The Rings" films, only worse. I was not looking forward to getting three buses later - though they turned out to be ok.

Nevertheless, such things are Life Experiences.

Afterwards, we went to Ramsgate, so Hazel could show me her (not at all) humble abode. She said I could borrow some of her Babysitters Club books, so I took all the ones I hadn't read. Since I stopped reading about half way through the series, and her collection sampled the entirety of it, the result was somewhat heavy. Afterwards, she took me to the beach. I walked in the sea (of course) and played on the two-penny-falls in an amusement arcade. This is an activity I enyoj immensely, but rarely get the chance to do, since the nearest ones to my home I've found (in the distant Metro Centre) only take 10ps - quel rip off. I wasn't particularly impressed by these ones - usually, for every five coins you enter, you get some sort of return, but the coins in these had been stacked in such a way that I had to insert about 80p before I got anything back. However, for the first time in my life, I won a prize on them! A large badge, with an orange creature on it. (What, I can't say. Any suggestions?)

Tuesday 10 June 2003

Last night, at the Beercart, a random bloke kept tapping me on the shoulder while I was dancing. At the end of the night, he told me I was cool and he loved me because I always had so much fun. Ok.

Also, Matte from Einsteifen stuck a six inch nail up his nose fifty seven times - and pulled!

Today, on my way into central Canterbury, three teenage boys came up to me. I'm pretty sure I'd seen two of them the previous night chez Beercart, but wasn't sure about the third. One of them asked for a hug. After asking him why (he claimed to be collecting them for charity or something equally insane) I granted his request. Then the third kept asking me for hugs, while making ecstatic conversation with me. ("You're going into town? Woo!") He reminded me a bit of Matt when he's uberdrunk . . . except it wasn't yet 4.30. I think he told me he loved me too. Not a bad week for it!

Sunday 15 June 2003

Just realised I can sign my name, "Z, Ex, '81".

My existence has been very boring lately. For the last four days, I have done little besides reading, sleeping and dusting my ex-boyfriend's smoke machine. (The reading involved finishing "Lucifer Rising", starting "My Life In Heavy Metal" and reading the entirety of five other books, one of which, "The Dice Man", was over 500 pages long - and well worth the read.)

But this evening its interest level went up, slightly: I just received an e-mail from said ex-boyfriend's brother asking me to direct him to some gay Metallica porn.

Monday 16 June 2003

Last night, I dreamt my breasts had shrunk three cup sizes. What would Freud make of *that*?

Tuesday 17 June 2003

Yesterday evening, I was sitting in my room, listening to loud nu-metal music through one ear of my headphones, when I heard a "pow!" sound. It sounded like a sudden explosion on a TV in the kitchen - but since there is no TV in my kitchen and nothing seemed untoward, I carried on, without giving it a second thought.

Only to get to the Beercart and hear about this. Tenterden Drive is, oh, all of a minute's walk from my house? (Albeit not in the direction I travel 99.9% of the time.) Eep.

I am likely to leave Canterbury on 9 July. If I get a "proper" job before then, I'll stay until late August, but given my incapability to even go to the university jobshop website, I don't think this is going to happen.

I tell everyone that I'll visit as often as I can next academic year - but I'm predicting this is Not Going To Be Very Often. For Canterbury is a long and expensive distance away from York and I predict my social and working life there will conspire to prevent regular visitation.

And so, few opportunities remain to see Bryn until September 2004 (if then): due to his job and transportation problems, we can only meet at weekends.

He suggested he visited this coming weekend. I agreed happily.

Then I realised: this weekend is Harry Potter Weekend.

He won't care. Being very dyslexic, he refuses to read anything other than Terry Pratchett books - all other literature (including Harry Potter) he listens to on tape.

Oh well. I shall just have to knock him out with it, so I can read it in peace. Considering the length of it, this should be fairly easy.

(And, of course, the weekend also marks the beginning of the most social time I'm likely to have until September. I'm meant to be meeting the Sittingbourne and Blean goths on Saturday night, and Ibid, now back in Merrie Inkland, is visiting between Monday and Thursday. Both events will be nice, but, hargh, timing!

Last night at the gay bar Beercart, they played Evanescence three times.

1. Three times is excessive for any band, in the space of two and a half hours.
2. They're not especially easy to dance to.
3. All their songs sound the same anyway, and "Bring Me To Life" might be good, but it's nothing Lacuna Coil haven't done more interestingly.

Nevertheless, there was a certain novelty in dancing to a number one hit - it's not something I do very often.

Spent the early part of today reading six Babysitters Club books. Why is their author obsessed with people talking while they're eating? Nearly every book, you get an exchange along the lines of:

"Mufflegumpewha?"
"Oh, classy, Stacey," Kristy commented.
"Sorry," I said, swallowing quickly.

And this event never has any significance whatsoever! (Just like my journal entries!)

My left nipple keeps sporadically vibrating, as if I had my mobile phone in my bra. But, being a rational human being (some of the time, anyway), I don't! What's going on? I once read in a novel something along the lines of, "My nipples are connected to my (further south body part) by a hotline" but I didn't think this meant nipples are in the habit of ringing.

And no, I haven't been thinking naughty thoughts! What do you take me for?

Wednesday 18 June 2003

Bearing in mind the dream I mentioned on Monday:

Today, completely out of the blue and for the first time ever, Bryn asked me, "What would you do if you woke up flat chested?"

Today, I read the last ever Babysitters Club book.

Even though I knew the series had finished,
even though I haven't read it with any degree of seriousness since I was fourteen (I didn't start until I was eleven, I needed time to get fed up with it, ok?),
even though there's about a hundred books in it I haven't read,
even though the later books in the series were deeply pants,
and even though it's only a series of books and a very fluffy one at that,
I felt Like A Part Of Me Had Died
or something.

Oh well. I seem to be living, even if said life is less interesting than death.

Thursday 19 June 2003

This morning, I received a letter from UKC offering me a chance to do a Ph.D starting in September. If I had a heart, it would not only be grey but it would be set on doing a Masters at York then. (In spite of the dream I had last night in which my course there involved doing a chemistry experiment at 4am, which went wrong.) But still, I feel all Desired And Stoof.

Sunday 22 June 2003

On my way to campus today, I saw a desk on the pavement. On it was a sign saying, "Please take if wanted" or something to that effect. About a minute later, I saw a sign saying, "Softball" pointing to an impenetrable hedge.

Bryn visited this weekend. He showed me a "Battle Of The Planets" episode. He tells me it was on TV when we were ickle, but since he's two years older than me, though I remember the name, I don't recall watching it. My conclusion? Fun, but if someone made a parody of a 70s Anime-ish cartoon . . . that's exactly what it would look like.

We also played "Full Throttle" and "The Dig". This was clearly an overdose on point-and-click adventure games, because today I was watching Bryn copy files on my computer and as the data plodded across the screen, I nearly said, "Press escape to cut this scene, it's boring."

The good news is, I went into Canterbury yesterday and didn't spend any money whatsoever, yet still managed to acquire things. No, I haven't contracted kleptomania: I saw the Sittingbourne goffs and they gave me a complimentary issue of Kaleidoscope magazine.

The bad news is, they also gave me a million tons of CDs to review for it by mid-July. Bryn, bless him (sorry, curse him - he's half-demon after all) said he'd do half of them, but knowing my luck, 90% of those I have left will turn out to be Weird Industrial Soundscapes. (I'm pretty sure the Spineshank CD won't be one, but you can never be certain.)

Monday 23 June 2003

Today, I got a letter, telling me I'd won the Edward A. Lamb prize, for best performance in the faculty in the Part II (i.e. second and third year) exams.

Flip. This means, not only have I done better than all the other Maths students at UKC (I did that in first and second year, so this isn't so miraculous), but all the Biologists, Chemists, Physicists, Computer Scientists, CSE-folk and Electronicists (sp?) too. (And possibly other types of science student I've either forgotten or never knew of.) Eep.

*feels very bad about complaining about the exams* (But they were evil and at times undoable!)