klena: (used to be the right one)
klena: (Default)
So far, this past week I have not been able to sleep any earlier than 3am in the morning. And whilst I don't mind that so much during Lecture Week, when I have fuckall classes, it is going to present a problem when I have classes before 12pm next week. Body, sort it out.

The worst part is, I get really tired about 10pm but every night there has been something to prevent me from getting into bed, be it people in the house, phonecalls from parents or just random life-wank cropping up.

I have the second episode of "Nobuta wo Produce" buffered though. I am about to try and sleep to that.

Money is still an issue. Despite my plan to be a massive Sheaf House slob today, the printer not working pretty much cock-blocked me from my pajamas plan (stupid house printer) thus making me head into uni to get some printouts. Which also meant I realised that I needed to buy my books for my John Milton seminar on Monday. Half of next week's budget just vanished. I have also spend, I would estimate, over £200 on books between this semester and last. This takes into account the £30 worth of book vouchers I received for Christmas but does not take into account the Shakespeare books that have not yet been bought. ;____;

I am following on my mum's suggestion to write to my uncle for the money. It's so stupid, if I'd had an extra £100 in my budget, I wouldn't be stressing so much. Or if I had an overdraft. Or had a card with which to buy books online where they are cheaper. Stupid money spiral.

I am not as bitter as one might thing about all this. Just...quietly resigned to all this. It's my fault I'm in debt and can't pay it, so it's my fault that I can't get an overdraft, so my current financial situation is my own problem. It does not mean that I am happy (or quiet) about it. :|

Took a look at my seminar prep for Monday. Which consists of the title "The Role of the Poet", 13 poets and 26 lines of "Paradise Lost". Surely there must be more prep than that? Some guided seminar questions? No. Thanks Milton. You are already becoming a massive pain in my ass, I didn't even want to study you. I don't even really remember studying you last year except to remark in a seminar that I wanted to "punch God in the face". Goddamn.

Lunch with Dave tomorrow. He's trying sushi for the first time. I wish I was panicking less. Worried I'm just going to see him and explode. Worried I'm just going to say nothing. Worried that I'm going to find things are different. Worried I'm going to be happy.
klena: (storm in the form of a girl)
New icon post primarily. Lyn-Z is one of my girl-idols.

Strange interim place currently. Dave and I aren't talking or even texting because I'm pissed at him for letting me down after exams finished and he...well, I can only speculate as to why he hasn't been in contact. He's forgotten about me (in the way that things slip his mind regularly), he's focused on work, he hasn't thought about me. Speculation but feels like there's flecks of truth there. And that's hard.

I don't want things to be over with him but I haven't seen him in a week and haven't spoken to him in 6 days. And I know that's not long but when you live in the same city, it's hurtful. So I've raged and been down and cried about him but now I'm just nowhere.

When I'm trying to sleep, I think about us and my heart drops to my stomach but only when I'm alone in bed. When I think about him any other time, there's just a sense of blurry resignment somewhere. That makes it sound like I've accepted defeat with us when I haven't. I just don't know what to do. Hence the lack of communication. I've had talks with people (housemates, uni friends, mum, dad) and the consensus seems to be to let him realise that he misses me and for him to get in contact.

I just worry that I'll be a long time waiting.

In other interim news, my Shakespeare module sort of fucked me over this week by announcing that, whereas in other modules it was acceptable to own non-recommended texts, with Shakespeare texts it is not as acceptable. It will "detrimentally affect" my studies. Because of the sheer volume of criticism and translation difficulties with Shakespeare. Now, if I had the money, I would have no problem buying the recommended Oxford/Arden/Cambridge versions. But I don't, unless I want to spend all of a week's budget on it.

Another point in the interim relates to uni again; one of the modules I was taking this semester was cancelled yesterday. This presents a problem because
1. I had already bought my books for Autobiographics
2. I like the books for Autobiographics
3. My budget is going to be destroyed by having to buy new books (see above paragraph)
4. There are not that many other modules that I wanted to do in the department.
5. This is the first week of Semester 2. It is more than likely I have missed any introductory lectures I was supposed to have.

The interim, ladies and gentlemen. Money, uni and men.

I wish I could say I was heartbroken and curled up on my bed but I'm not. But I'm not doing well emotionally, I guess. I don't feel like I'm feeling very much but that might just be my problems getting to sleep before 3am. Maybe. Or the post-exam cold that spreads around university and has hit Sheaf House at the minute.

Maybe I'm just too sensitive and need to harden the fuck up.
klena: (i heard a rumour)
It's nearly 2:30 in the morning
and
I've sort of been busy today
but
I'm still awake
even though
my brain and eyes are tired
but
not tired enough to curl under the duvet
so
I am awake
and
feeling alone
and
hurting in my heart cavity
because
someone who doesn't want to hurt me
seems to
end up doing it anyway
and
I don't know what to do
so
I sit here
and
try not to feel too miserable
but
it isn't really working
so
I am reading Pictures For Sad Children
trying
to take my mind off my problems
but
it is not really working
klena: (just for the attention)
The more things change, the more they stay the same. Never got excited about promises because you never came through on any other ones. Dull taste in my mouth like distant acidic heartbreak but no ache echoing in my chest. Old scar tissue I opened and happily rubbed salt into the unhealed jagged edges but the pain is one I prepared myself for. There is no ache, just the residual taste of first love that never developed.

Memories of the drumbeats you tapped into my back that sunk into my skin and into my blood that night and i felt as though i could feel them course in my body and the beats were the pulsing music and the energy of the people around us and the thrumming electric joy of being together. I was happy then and so were you. But those are all they are now; memories. Times has changed.


remember when i was a bird and you were a map
klena: (Default)
is it strange that tonight instead of being upset and annoyed and feeling like i've been blown off, i felt calm and just shrugged and was way more blase about it that a motherfucking french aristocrat? although the truth is that you can't get upset about something you never even believed would happen. how sad it is to be 21 and so cynical of relationships and people.

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klena

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