"I am half sick of shadows," said the Lady of Shallot

Yesterday, despite feeling like my face was slowly being crushed by some sort of giant vice I got up, got dressed and sat and watched the clock as I realised I was ten minutes early. Mama came through and asked if I was going in to which I intended to say yes but instead said nah. Half an hour later I was curled up on my sofa, checking my emails (and shouting I am not a number, I am a free man! everytime I had to trot out my matric number) and there's the Histoire secretary with yet another red coded envelope flashing away in my inbox. She sends so many. My eyes scanned the paragraph of notices and noticed that wonderful phrase: "lecture cancelled". Ya beauty.

Feeling much better I proceeded to spend my free morning watching Who's line is it anyway since it seems to be on constantly now and there's only so much Judge Judy one girl can take. I contemplated the several films I have recorded but half of them are french and the other half are black and white, both of which require glasses which involves getting up. My pen burst whilst I was scribbling over Joe's second chapter but somehow the ink stayed inside and just left little constellations all over my hands. Combined with the edges of the Union stamp on my hand that I haven't scrubbed off yet I look like I wrestled a squid. Well, the sailor look is very in so the lady in topshop told me. I was like no kidding, is that why you've slapped anchors over everything. I like going into topshop and giggling. I mean they picked a coked up model who thinks Pete Doherty is husband material. Not so smart.

Also in my inbox were several emails from bands I haven't listened to in a long while. Like Hot Hot Heat, who are rather like the Kooks only with better lyrics and music and accents. Apparently they have a new album out but I couldn't be bothered checking it out. Then there was We Are Scientists. Now I love this band but their music is kinda boring. I mean you can listen to them a couple of times and think yeah, pretty good, might see them live (I didn't) but then you skip them when your ipod does a shuffle. Their email begins thusly: You Androgynous Amorists, The pre-sale has ended, and general sale has begun, for The Back In Style Tour -- and if you have ANY intention of EVER seeing We Are Scientists again (this spring in the UK) and paying for it, may we POLITELY SUGGEST that you sort yourself out. Hee thought I. And I popped their CD on for all of five minutes when I then got bored and changed it back to that crazy Icelandic lass that everybody slags me off for liking. But then I remembered their website full of 'advice'. They answer submitted questions which sometimes leads to comedy results or at least kills an hour reading. For example: query: how can you understand poetry?
Ah, but that is the point of poetry: to narrowly skirt the line on whose other side lies total gibberish. A poem should suggest meaning, but you should never be sure of what it's saying. A poem that you fully understand is a terrible poem that fails in poetry's one objective: to mystify the reader.

I thought I may as well see if the idea that had struck me at 1 in the morning was workable, especially since it was task orientated and that way I'd be hitting 2 goals. Course I had to wait for my dad to return before I could fill in most of the blanks, I don't trust Wikipedia so much when it comes to religion, and luckily saying the words "Hail Mary?" led to him reeling off the prayer as fast as he could with a little bow of his head at the word Jesus. God bless him. I shan't tell him what I want to do with it but then he won't ask. I told him once that if I had been a religious girl I would have been a Catholic and now I can ask him anything I want. When anybody else makes reference to the fact that he is religious he gets all defensive. Probably because Julie treats Catholicism as this strange and weird thing, which is the school's fault really.

So I wrote a little, I was reminded of Tennyson so I read the Lady of Shallot again, the vague Lesbian relented to my complaints of being dirt poor so we're staying in tomorrow night instead and the boy who thinks he's in love with me told me he wanted to 'sex me up' and then went back offline. All in all, not a bad Wednesday.

I'm really torn this morning. I could go take a healthy dose of as many vitamins and pills as I can swallow and go back to bed or I can pull myself together and go to Archaeology. The timetable says we're doing Archaeology and Lawyers. I don't know what the hell that can even be about. Bed seems to be winning. A day in bed with poetry, Catholic doctrines to rip apart and soup. That's a pretty good Thursday.