All entries for January 2005

January 27, 2005

God, I hate it when I'm right

More importantly, I love it when I'm wrong.

I love the way that as soon as I expect to be stressed by something, I'm immediately stress-free. I love the way that things never ever turn out as bad as I expect them to. In fact, any of my reactions which I expect somehow turn out to be the opposite. But I know I'm just doing it to annoy me, so it doesn't bother me at all.


I'm sorry; I think I freaked out

Yet more random pieces of randomnity, most of them thought of yesterday but I was very tired when I got home so I didnae write then.

Pants. Brasssoc pants, to be precise. They're good, but every time I wear them my old man makes a break for freedom down one of the legs. Not ordinarily a problem, as I usually wear trousers. But I was originally given the impression that brasssoc pants were to be used for brasssoc events, such as concerts. Concerts where I will have to change [thus being in a trouserless state, albeit momentarily] in a room full of other people. This is in no way going to stop me wearing brasssoc pants on concert days, but I thought people could do with a warning so that they can look away/stare intently.

Worrying for no reason. This is something I do quite often. For confidentiality reasons, I can't say what I've been worrying about mainly this week, but can give a train of thought starting with "I'm not sure I should be doing this because of X" [X being a specific reason] and ending with "but X is why I signed up to do it", with the same X and about three days of angst to get between the two.

Reflex responses. Such as "fine" when asked how I am, or "good" when asked how Top B was. I don't intend to lie, but I just automatically say these things unless I purposefully stop myself from doing so. So, for the record what I actually intended to say was "trying to make my peace with issues looming over me of which I have no control" and "It was passable, but I would have preferred more dancing" respectively.

Finally, I'd like to complain about yesterday. Anyone else get a severe feeling that the university really didn't want anyone else around except those graduating [or at least their parents who were dishing out the dosh for momentoes]. Strange that there was an open day going on at the same time, really.


January 25, 2005

Just a quickie

It being Burns night and all, I dined this evening on haggis [accompanied, obviously, by a fine scotch] but I was reminded of something that has puzzled me for years. I'm sure I'm not the first person to ask this, but what is the plural of haggis? Is it haggisses, or is it haggi?

Why bother [Volume I]

Today I'll be wondering why I bother… washing.

I have realised that my morning shower is pointless. This revelation came about when I was putting on deoderant this morning. I had just come from the shower, where I had washed myself thoroughly using shower gel and soap and shampoo and everything. I raised my arm so that I could spray my pits, and was greeted with a whiff of pure me-smell. No trace of soapiness, nor shower gel odor. Just pure, unadulterated, natural masculine scent. Thus showering does not stop me being smelly. As I'm not in the habit of rolling about in the mud, and hence don't get all that dirty, I really don't see why I need to wash.


Why does everyone I know, know each other?

Grrr.

Blogging is cool, as I can vent all kinds of random stuff and stop it cluttering up my head. But I very rarely mention other people in them, as I'm aware that they'll either read it or someone who does read it will tell them. Thus, if I want to complain/reveal my innermost thoughts/ask for advice about someone I need to do it elsewhere. But how can I be sure that people I don't want to hear it, don't? Given that I can throw people considerably further than I trust them, the solution seems to be to talk to someone who doesn't know the people involved. Hence the title.


Showing my age

As some of you will know, I have recently upgraded my computer. One of the side-effects of this is that I'm now using XP. And I don't much like it.

The thing that is bugging me most is the way that every few minutes it pops up this annoying message in the bottom right hand corner: "Drive J is low on disk space" [Yes, I might have too many partitions]. The two things that annoy me about this are:
1) I can't stop seem to it doing that. I know that there is a lot of stuff on that partition. It's stuff I never actually use, but was keeping hold of until I could put it on a CD, thus it doesn't matter if there isn't much room on there. Hence I am aware of the situation and happy with it. Stop bugging me
2) Back when I was growing up, with my Atari ST and external SCSI hard drive, 50mb WAS a hard drive. Now it's just "not much space". I don't like this at all.


I'm really not in the mood

I promised that I'd write a WO Top B based entry.

So here are all of the thoughts of the night that I can remember: I'm bored. I'm off. I'm back. Hurry up, people. Stupid bar politics – I just ordered a round on someone elses behalf, as to serve them would break the bar serving system irroversibly. Where is everyone? Oh, still upstairs. Top B good. Fuckity, fuck fuck de-fuck. James' house is cool. I need to go home. I love you all. Shit, arse, wank. G'night.


January 24, 2005

Now I remember why I don't go to my 9:00s

Wake up at 6:15. Think "this is not enough sleep". Last night I upgraded my computer (I thiefed my brother's old one) and after trying in vain to get it to recognise that I had a CD drive, I finally managed to sort out a system that works. Unfortunately, this arrangement means I have all my brother's settings and not mine, so I was trying to get firefox to work properly until 12:30. Me being me, I then did not get to sleep until about 1:45.

Anyway, I lie in until my alarm goes off at 7:00 and get up promptly, for a change. Get showered. Getting dressed when problem 2 occurs. Tonight is the official wind orchestra Top B social. So I thought I'd wear my WO t-shirt. Except I can't find it. It's not in the "to be washed" pile, not in the "I've worn it, but it doesn't smell that bad" pile, not in my drawer (where it should be), not hanging in my wardrobe, and not drying. Anyway, this fruitless searching meant that:

I just missed the bus. I got to the stop just after it had pulled away. I know that this is only to be expected with busses, so I normally wouldn't mind. Except it was freezing cold at 8:00 this morning. My nose would have been running if it had not iced up. And I had to wait over 15 minutes for the next bus (every 10 minutes, my arse). And because of that, it was full. I got on, but had to stand the whole journey. Even though I saw people leave from the top deck, the nobber standing in the stairwell neither moved upstairs to the vacated seats, not stepped aside so that others could do so. Thus I have a sore neck and bus-hair from the stupid designed-for-short-people bus.


January 23, 2005

Last year's diary

I have found my diary from last year. I was going to bore you all with what I was thinking a year ago, but unfortunately I didn't fill in my diary for the 23rd Jan last year.

Instead, I will say 2 things:
1) I actually had an OK writing style back then
2) I was a very depressed, lonely young man

One year on, I can honestly say that nothing's changed except I can't write as fluently. Or indeed as neatly. Bugger.


January 22, 2005

Closure

I first met you in Sainsbury's. You looked so lonely. I took you home. I fed you and I looked after you. I gave you a place where you could stay. I thought that we were happy. And then I left you. I thought you would be OK. I wasn't going to be away for long. But I came back and you were dead. I don't know if it was the cold or the fact that my housemate never watered you while I was away (the bastard), but you were no longer with us. It has taken me a long time to get over it. I kept hoping that you'd recover. But now I know that you will never return. I'll always think of you when I make a curry.

January 2005

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