You won't matter anymore
23.03.06, 10:57 pm

Foolishly, because I heard that being friends with someone means that you actually have to do nice stuff for them sometimes, I offered to proofread Becky�s dissertation for her as it was in for today. I�m probably the best choice for the job anyway, seeing as I�m so very anal about spelling and semicolons and subjunctives and all that other crap. Anyway, it was 25 pages long and all about re-cycling, which I�m sure is totally fascinating to someone doing Geography but not so much for me. It read nicely though, and I was just checking through all the lovely structured quotes and discussion when I came across a quotation from me. She�s given me the pseudonym of Helen (cunning) and it�s my bloody recycling discussion quote:

Helen: But wouldn't you then feel a bit p***** off and sort of do half-a**** recycling because you're getting fined for it, cos I know I'd do a really half-a**** job about it and just chuck stuff in recycling but not really care about my labels or anything like that [Discussion 4].

She had to asterisk me out and everything, because I so very obviously have Tourette�s Syndrome. The dissertation was all going along swimmingly with proper, decent English until I got in there with my general �OF COURSE I DON�T FOOKING RECYCLE, YA DAFT COCK�. Note to self: learn to swear less.

And then later down the page I find another quote from me, and then Becky�s explanation about it underneath (I think Maisy is Michelle�s pseudonym):

Helen: Er we have a big carrier bag for paper and newspapers basically, and they collect it once every two weeks.
Maisy: Do you not have a blue bin?
Helen: No we just have a bag (laughs). We live in Salford, we don't get bins. [Discussion 4]

�Withington is a district in the wealthier part of South Manchester that is becoming a popular residency for young professionals; Salford, on the other hand, is a significantly poorer area, often in the local and national news for various reports of criminal activity.

Ha, THANKS! I think I need to refer Beck to the posters in Piccadilly Station in the underground metro link bit, which call Salford �Manchester�s beautiful and up-and-coming young niece�. Clearly these posters are lying in every way, but still. Actually I don�t even know why I�m trying to defend Salford; I think it sucks just as much ass as she does, and always put Eccles, Manchester as my address instead of Eccles, Salford. It�s just that now I sound like a big foul-mouthed chav who makes a living from robbing grannies and drinking White Lightning round the back of a skip with all my other criminal homies.

Mine and Em�s lives sank to new lows of boredom and geekdom today as we had a full-blown plastic gun battle, as the bloke who lent them to Michelle for the murder mystery night still hasn�t come round to collect them yet. We were both way too into it, sneaking around corners and poking our heads over the top of the stairs. I totally won because I was holding my gun the way that Jack Bauer does in 24, but Em seems to think that writing �eM kicKed hols aSs� on the fridge in fridge magnets completely settled the matter in her favour.

Excuse me whilst I gloss over the Paddy angst in the quickest amount of time possible: email from me saying I don�t understand; meeting in pub tonight; he feels nothing for me; I think he thinks that because he�s not in love with me he reckons it wouldn�t work; his emotional side is really a bit shit and he has no idea about relationships; probable blessing in disguise, relationship would probably have ended after a month or two; lots of horrible �why doesn�t he want me, why doesn�t anyone want me� thoughts despite all that; kind�ve don�t want to spend any time with him and worried that the friendship�s fucked. I really don�t want to think about it all, and I�ll attempt to write about it later.

I�m off home this weekend as my sister�s back from Paris for a couple of weeks, because she has to do some exams in England that she�s done bugger all work for. It�s also my 21st birthday on Sunday, and I figured I should go home and spend it with my family, as if I stay here the kids will only force me to go out and celebrate. Kind�ve don�t want my birthday for a variety of reasons. Be nice to get out of Sheffield though. Oh, it�s kind�ve obvious that I wrote these last two paragraphs a long time after the rest of the entry, i.e. after The Rejection II.

I have two lectures tomorrow and they�re on the same thing. So very wrong on every level. There�s a gap in-between though, so I may nip into town and do exciting things like buying some more moisturiser. Someone should make a film of my life; it�s just that fascinating. Anyway, after lectures I�ll come home and not work on my library project, just for a change, and then get a train up to MancLand in the evening. This week has lasted for forever and I�m kind�ve looking forward to Easter, even though I�ll miss the kids like something else and will probably only be going home for one week out of the three. Easter�s not till the end of next week though. Sorry, completely rambling now� think I�m kind�ve tired and rubbish. I�ll see y�all in Manchester.

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