2005-01-24..3:37 p.m.

1. I�m going to ask today about taking the month of February off, or at least reducing my hours to one day a week. I�m really nervous. REALLY nervous, because if I were in my Office Manager's position I�m not sure I�d let me. Eek!

2. The last two payments of my tuition are due on February and March (both around the 16th). This will be a minor problem because I shan�t be working and I�m paying rent. If there�s anyway you could help me out, let me know because otherwise I�m going to have to go loan-begging. Yikes!

3. I�ve a mere FIVE WEEKS to get this essay written and finished. I�m going spare.

4. I need to organise an ntl account, but will have to do that while I�m still here as have nowhere/money to phone otherwise. Eep!

5. I�ve started having minor panic attacks again, though these are really just centred around those couple of days before my period. All the same, it�s immobilising and after my bus caught fire on my way in to work one evening last week* I found myself on the side of the road feeling SWALLOWED by the IMMENSITY of having to get on ANOTHER BUS. I�m joking now, because it is kind of funny, but at the time I really did feel utterly despaired and it was only one part of an emotionally traumatic day**. The thing is though that this keeps happening each month and it keeps getting worse. It�s never a physical crampiness, but the thought of facing an emotional collapse like that again�So why is this no-fun apart from the obvious? I�m thinking of going back on the Pill. I don�t want to because I don�t like the thought of it, nor what happened the last time I went off it, but I need some sort of regulation here. I�m going to have to make an appointment (before I leave here!!) with the nurse at my clinic and see what she says.

*somewhere between Elephant and Castle and Waterloo, a peculiar waft of rubber, oil and spewed chicken vomit started perforating the that-far odourless journey. We all just kind of sat there for a bit looking suspiciously for the dude who farted when someone actually shouted, 'Fire! The bus is on fire!' And lo, if I didn't turn in my seat and the back two row's were fugged in a steadily rising billow of greyish smoke. We all got our stuff and ran for it while the poor driver, who had obviously been trained for this sort of emergency, but had never actually experienced it, started making a grab for the fire extinguisher. His expression equalled the one that used to betray me whenever faced with a situation at the pools when I was lifeguarding: sudden horror that you're about to be exposed to not knowing enough, and then cautious determination to fucking-well see it through until someone better equipped to handle such things could come and handle it. Bus Driver Who's Name I Don't Know, to you I say Well done. No one else knows you were just for a moment scared.
**Friday was a fucking disaster all over. It stank, literally smelled of You're Rubbish with the occasional overtones of Ha! HA! Let's See You Get Out of This One, Sucker. I woke up feeling grumpy, tried to kiss M goodbye whereupon he YELLED (in his sleep, but still) 'MEEPSIE I AM TRYING TO SLEEP'. I got to class and realised that the topic of the day was in fact the required reading, which meant I'd only done the secondary stuff and, though I'd read Picture of Dorian Gray when I was 17, basically I had to spend the rest of class blagging terribly and hoping no one would see through my moronic insights. I spent the rest of the day reading Derrida's interpretations of Nietzsche and Radclyffe Hall's Well of Loneliness. The bus caught on fire on my way to work/meeting ex-flatmate Jo to catch up, get mail and sort out remaining bills AND GUESS WHO SHOWED UP?! Ex-Fucking-Flatmate Emma. The self same Ex-Fucking-Flatmate Emma who farted in front of my mother. The Ex-Fucking-Flatmate Emma who would SHUT THE DOOR TO WHATEVER ROOM SHE WAS IN when I came home. Yay. I somehow managed to screw my contorted disbelieve into a fake 'Hi! Wow! What a great surprise!' kind of smile, but I don't think it worked.

Still, the weekend wasn�t all bad, in fact I actually had a really good weekend: very productive and generally rather happy. I got loads of work done and have really started thinking more clearly about the essay, which is a huge relief. I also got the last of the reviews for PennyBlack finished that were unfinished for nearly three months. Amazingly enough I�m going to follow Mum�s advice (DID YOU HEAR THAT??!) and stop writing reviews for a while. I don�t need the added pressure of having to please more people than I already worry about failing. And I awoke this morning smiling and chirpy! I'm in a weirdly good mood this morning, because being at work and knowing that my home is currently being invaded by dirty fat ions construction workers who will be tramping ALL OVER THE HOUSE WITH DIRTY FAT ELECTRONS CONSTRUCTION BOOTS by all rights I ought to be miserable.

I'm also being highly entertained by the history of the universe which not only might have something to do with the fabbly happy mood, but also serves to make buses catching on fire and wells of despair seem pretty paltry by comparison because DUDE! the UNIVERSE! It's so cool!

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep! Well I've told her and they (Myra and Sue) are to decide me fate later�she was super understanding which is super (gah! Posh toff! Coming out! Under pressure!), but I've no idea what the dealy will be. I need someone to hold my hand and maybe put a bandaid on my knee.

It seems that we�ll be coming into work on Monday next week and the week after and they�ll be getting a temp to cover the rest! So Yay! More time AND near-sufficient to live on income! Huzzah! Tea cakes for everyone!

****meep