And who am I to tell you
05.04.06, 9:28 pm

Hey y�all. Man, I am so sorry about the current state of my mood. I can only imagine how bloody irritating it is to read about, and trust me when I say it�s irritating to live with too. Normally I am so horrendously chirpy and enthusiastic about things - every single feedback sheet that I received back from my BMS317 oral presentation that I had to do on myself and why I�d be the ideal person for some job contained the phrase �very enthusiastic�. Dr Geoff then went on to totally slate my PowerPoint slides, which� well, good point. Anyway. I really am trying to snap myself out of it too, I�m trying so hard but it�s just a never-ending sea of gloopy blackness that follows me around. Anyway, I�ll get back to my mood later; for now I�ll force it away and do a summary of life.

So I�m now casa Manchester. I just opened up Limewire to download some songs and was greeted with the sight of two incomplete porn video files waiting for new sources. Welcome home! I�m assuming it�s Ciaran, seeing as he�s currently home filming some programme or other up in Liverpool. Ciaran being back also means that Cannabis Capital is fast reaching the level of Country. He pulled out some new vaporiser/bong thing last night and I swear I thought it was a crack pipe to start with. I am incredibly liberal when it comes to weed (no other drugs though, because everything else is fucking dangerous and I don�t care what anyone else says) but even I think it�s a bit too much when I feel I need to leave the room to stop myself from getting vaguely high from the passive smoke. On a side note, despite the crap mood last night I�m stupidly proud of myself for resisting having any, mainly because my lungs have definitely endured enough damage from my stupid ex-smoking habit, but also because I honestly can�t be arsed to go down that road again� I don�t need anything to help me kick my crappy mood; I can do it on my own.

Sorry, didn�t mean to ramble on about weed for quite so long. I�m just concerned with the amount that my dad smokes� in fact, I�m completely terrified that he�s going to end up with lung cancer. He�s smoked since he was 14, and all that unfiltered tobacco in the spliffs must be wrecking total havoc. Having such a laid-back father is great in some ways, but a little fucked up in others. Speaking of my dad, we�ve already had an argument since I got back last night. I think he�s sick of me being here already, which is fine because I�m sick of being here too. I�m either not like my dad at all or really like him; either way we never really work when we�re in close proximity. I�m aware that I have a lot of boring family issues and that I still blatantly really miss my mum, by the way. And that�s okay; I guess we all have our demons.

My dad�s just popped his head round the door and said with a smile, �Do you want some rice pudding?� I responded with a horrified, �No, I really don�t� I�d love a cup of tea though� and he�s gone to make me one. I feel really bad for writing that previous paragraph now. Don�t get me wrong� he�s a lovely guy and we do get on most of the time (mainly when I�m in Sheffield and on the other end of the phone); I just have a knack of pissing him off.

Anyway, let me talk about something that�s not either completely depressing or all deep-and-meaningful. I�m meeting up with Beckeh this week for coffee (and probable cake eating), as she�s back from New York and wants her work clothes that I brought up to Manc for her. Plus I�m guessing she wants to see me too. Actually really looking forward to it, as I�ve missed her quite a massive amount. My sister had her last exam today � I spent a very boring hour and a half around midnight last night testing her on various coma-inducing statistical finance models. She�d better get 95% or whatever. The rest of my time�s been spent working, drinking cups of tea and watching quality television such as The Ricki Lake Show.

So yeah, the evil mood is ruling my life at the moment. The best way I�ve found of coping with it is to sit around playing guitar. I know I bang on about bloody guitars endlessly, but I really can�t express just how much I love to play. And without meaning to sound like some cheesy motivational speaker, it�s my �thing�, my thing that I�m good at. I�m quite good at singing but that�s just genes; it doesn�t require any skill, at least not my everyday singing around the house. Guitar took a lot of practise� I�ve been playing since I was 15, and it�s only now that I sound good. A couple of years ago Damien Rice � Cannonball came on the radio, and I remember saying to my sister, �God, I wish I could play that. I could never play that� and she said something like, �You could, if you really worked�. Well, I finally played it all the way through this afternoon and it doesn�t sound bad� my god, I sound so cheesy and up myself. I know I�m not a master in any sense; I know I�m distinctly average, but it�s just something I can do that most people can�t, and it makes me feel just slightly better about myself. If nothing else, I can play Cannonball and impress the cats.

Again, I�m sorry that the entries at the moment aren�t the funnest events ever. I�m really trying to get happy again, and I�ll hopefully post something less intense soon.

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