Dear diary,
Today has been a helluva day. I ping ponged my wau through a large pile of mail. I killed three mice under the sofa, and I walked sixteen miles only to find that the plans had been cancelled. I waited all day for a response, only to find it meagre and scratchy. I ate leftover pizza which I am certain has been nibbled on by the kitchen rats, and everyday I watch the notes in my secret envelope dwindle horrifically. I smashed into three cars, and I stalled several times. All for what? A packet of peanut butter m&ms.
No really. I have not written on this blog for a dreadfully long time, and it has only been because several life changing things happened recently. Now, I do not wish to sound ungrateful or horrid or anything like that, especially considering I had a fantastic weekend and I am also in love, and being in love constitutes rather a lot of things, like amicability, tolerance and happiness, but I am just dreadfully out of sorts and rather blue in the face today.
Firstly, I shall mention that I have writer’s block, which means I have been sitting in front of a blank piece of paper for hours and hours, and all I have written is;
Meanwhile, Thomas Bardwell was wallowing in a pit of his own helpless misery.
Which to be frank with you is a line of meaningless and rather hopeless drivel.
Let us start with today. I have a pile of editing to do. A foreign student has handed me her 15,000 word dissertation to edit. Her english is, quite frankly, appalling, and although I can see she has tried her best to convey her opinions on paper, I just cannot seem to find any proper way to put her points across! The main reason being, of course, that I actually do not understand what she is trying to say.
So I just ask myself two questions:
1. WHY on EARTH are universities in the United Kingdom allowing students to complete their courses, nay, to JOIN courses, when they know absolutely nothing about the English language? SURELY there is a rule stating how much english one must know before they embark on a course so reliant on tonnes of ENGLISH writing?
2. Why am I even bothering to help this poor woman? All I am serving to do is eliminate all her meaningless drivel and fix what little she has left. How is she ever going to get any marks from that!?
There is no use going into detail. I am bored, frustrated and extremely tired with it all. I just want to pack everything away, eat a slice of that delicious pizza my brother made, and slump over my bed and sleep.
I started editing in the morning. It was pretty pleasant, actually. The sun was out for half an hour and everybody was asleep, which meant I had a few precious moments of complete silence. After that, however, my day just trudged miserably down a hill tripped over a particularly sharp rock, and carried on rolling down, knocking into trees and other stones as it did, before crashing into a bony, tired, messy heap right at the bottom.
After three hours of editing, I dragged my sorry self up, had a deliciously warm shower and rushed out to a driving lesson, which suffice to say, was a complete failure. I stalled the car seven times, and made my instructor quite frustrated with me. After this, I returned home for three minutes, threw on some decent clothes, and rushed out again to meet an old friend of mine. At her house I decided to tell her that I got married on Saturday. At this point I was feeling particularly drained and rather grumpy. She however expressed her joy in jovial terms, and I think I detected a judgement in her eyes but I let it pass because you know, my fault for telling people.
After this I went straight to work, where I was nasty and awful and made a seven year old child cry despicably.
So I shouldered the tiredness and irritability, stopped her crying, got into the car that would kindly drop me home, rang my mother, demanded to know when the editing deadline was, discovered that it was three days ago, rushed into the house, washed my face, climbed out of my clothes and tossed on an old nighty, climbed into bed, switched on my laptop and began to edit once again.
I really am not feeling this.
My writing is dreadful, my brain is clogged, and I have porridge glooping out of my ears. My husband is not being as accommodating as I had hoped he would be. When one is moody, one just wants to complain, and having a spouse three hours away, and rather distant on a messaging service, is dreadfully daunting. I do not want to complain. Only yesterday I was in a lala land of love and dreams and roses. Right now I want to smash a vase and eat a giant bag of doritos. I am blaming the chemical imbalances in my brain.When will this horror end?
Ocean Bream 