Friday, February 20
Do you know what pissed me off most last night?
I was having a pretty good week up until then. I'm on a reading week, which means no classes and long lie-ins, and I've generally been enjoying myself, just relaxing and doing fuck all. I know that I've got work to do, but I really don't want to do it. I have no "get up and go", I guess due to the rut in which I find myself.
I'd had a wicked time out on Tuesday, at this karaoke thing and then this little underground bar afterwards. Spent far too much money, as per usual (£60 for fuck's sake), but I thoroughly enjoyed myself. I sang far too many songs, and I sang all of them badly. Meh, so I can't sing. I already knew that one...
Oh, and just call me "The Prophet". A few weeks ago, I wrote in my little notebook and subsequently on here that "I bottle things up, let them grow and swell, and then increase the pressure on the cork holding it all in. Eventually the bottle is just going to explode." I reckon that'd be what happened last night... I know my self far too well, mostly as a consequence of writing about myself here for the past year (or thereabouts).