I am starting to write my final dissertation and I am scared as I could possibly be (I think the current language describes it as scared as fuck). I wish we had more books available for research. The Tardis sure would come in handy.
I ordered some books online 8 days ago. I can’t wait for them to arrive. I’m really really fidgeting, everyday I wake up hoping they are closer and closer to home.
I try to stay focused. I tell myself I have to do something more with my life, so work more. It’s ever so easy to sink into laziness. I need to fight that.
writing about doctor who. The beginning of my essay.
I feel down, so Dario Marianelli it is.
Sometimes I wish things fell into place, instead of taking the shape of absent-minded girls and unexpected vomiting. Please…
Oh very well I’ll go to bed very soon and dream.
I watched Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice twice.
Designing a website can drive you insane. why the fuck am I to struggling so much. Oh yeah wait, useless course -_-
Sometimes I think we are all fragile, like a teenage girl. Even when we grow up, there will always be something to destabilise us and make us insecure. Not even becoming self-conscious is enough in certain situations, because emotions just defy every reasoning and every discipline. We should all remember what it means to take care and respect ourselves in the first place. People who make fun of another person’s private tragedy are first and foremost having no care or interest for their own feelings. They show no self-respect either. What can responsibility mean to their minds then? The thing is (and I don’t want to offend anyone, though what I’m about to say may sound provokative) human beings are very often a mix of a fragile and scared teenager and thick commenters*. I feel like that too at times, scared, insecure and very very stupid, incapable of being of any help to myself. I guess we should set up a degree on self-respect.
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*I was referring to people commenting online with crappy remarks in regards to facts that are very dramatic/sad/alarming (i.e. Bullying, teenage angst, or worse).
I’d love to start a zine online (in collaboration with friends, writers and various artists and designers).
I want a personal hairstylist. So I wouldn’t have to go through this circuitous process anytime I decide to get my hair cut. I don’t even know why I obsess so much.
I think I’m coming to terms with the fact I look like a 16 yo. Which I’m not, since it’s been 7 years since I lit off 16 candles on my birthday cake; but when I consider that at that time people would look at me in shock and swear they thought I was 12, overall it’s a nice improvement. Few years later I remember I was immensely pissed off when some random girl said to my friend and classmate “Oh is she your age? Really?! I thought she was 12”. I was actually 18. But I’m ok now, I think I’m starting to appreciate my young looks, what ever people say or what ever surprise they might trigger. Who I am, How I am is certainly defined by features that have very little to do with my appearance. (Anyway I stilll think she’ll end up complaining about her wrinkled face by the age of 30).
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