something funny to say

There comes a time in every girl's life when she has a defining moment, an epiphany if you will, that basically consists of giving herself a telling off.

Mine goes like this: get it together, you pussy.

Still not having internet in my house has cut off one of my cheapest and most accessible forms of therapy, namely- this. Getting accustomed my new 2nd year routine (less lectures, less booze, more part-time job) means getting used to not blogging. I don't like that, but whilst getting to a computer is far from impossible, the following makes it not a happy option-

1) The computer centre being a ten minute walk away.
2) Laziness of self.
3) Mental association with PC lab and library with the doing of actual work.
4) Bad habit of incessant smoking whilst walking anywhere meaning that said ten minute walk is likely to add greatly to the suffering of lungs and wallet. Ugh.
5) Complete lack of inspiration.

When I do get on here, it never turns out how I want. My last few offerings appear to have been nothing but frustrated drama-related rants and wanky speeches about my place in the world. Granted, most of the last academic year's blogging fell into these categories, but sometimes it seems like I can't even get the necessary despair to do that well. Damn antidepressants. At least it was good for something.

So this time I'm just going to go ahead and give you a nice boring update of where I'm at. Life-wise I mean. Geography-wise I'm in the same place I always am, the beautiful clicking hubbub of the PC lab, RHUL. Blee.

This year it has become financially necessary for me to get a term-time job. Technically it was necessary last year too, but this year I don't sleep so much so it's actually feasible. My two days a week at Help the Aged are actually one of the best things about uni life at the moment. The other day my manager and I spent several hours creating a Halloween window, complete with joyriding skeletons and an owl wearing a witch's hat. Tell me you wouldn't love it?

My course is... well, it's interesting. I'm only doing two options this term, neither of which I wanted to do but, believe it or not, they're not that bad. Radio Playmaking is mainly playing with minidisk recordings and making sound effects with carrier bags and bodily functions, which I like. My performance research project is mainly acting out bible stories (good) and getting drawn into the inevitable religious discussions about said bible stories (not good).

I've been to church once this year. Needless to say, it didn't feel all that good. I miss it, the church itself I mean, the people, but I can't do it. The Journey is the kind of interactive, relational church that I've always loved but, now that I'd rather eat the mouldy orange peel I found behind my bed than actually discuss how I'm doing in my walk with Jesus, I'm suddenly longing for impersonal mass worship. Hum ti tum.

Honestly, I'm just sick of talking about it. Having already had the obligatory, yes I'm a Christian, yes that means no sex before marriage, no I don't like the Pope discussion with everyone I know, I'm now left with the not quite as fun task of explaining why no, I'm not a Christian, no I'm not waiting anymore and no, I still don't like the Pope.

I'm done with it. Losing my faith wasn't some flippant decision I made whilst pissed during the summer (I didn't get pissed til just after), it was a horrible, painful transition that I'm still pretty raw about. It's like the aftermath of a break-up when you keep having to say, actually he dumped me, yes I want his ass to burn but of course we're still friends. I'm so tired of saying it. It's over, that's all.

Which is weird, because for a long time the majority of my posts on here were inspired by or about my faith. It's been such a talking point for so long, but now it's gone. And I know a lot of the people who read (that's read like 'red' not 'reed') this blog are people I know through church and... I almost feel guilty about it. Like I've somehow let you guys down.

If it helps, for the first time in many years I'm actually Ok with who I am right now. I don't know what about Christianity stopped me from feeling that but now I feel it. I like me. I'd give me a cuddle and ruffle my own hair if I wasn't in a room full of students.

And there's a boyfriend now too. He's sworn, quite vehemently, that he won't ever read this blog and has no wish to and really isn't keen on the idea of a blog at all (not much of a cyber geek is our Matt) so it doesn't matter what I say about him on here...

HAH! I'm not making that mistake again. But even if I was stupid enough to mouth off on here I wouldn't, there really isn't anything bad to say. He's a squidgy little chef with a Gordon Ramsay complex and a passionate love of bad cigarettes. He suits me just fine, and the best part is he knows exactly how crazy I am and doesn't seem to be scared at all. Good man. Good, brave, stupid man.

The only other news is that I've had my hair cut short. Oh, and I want to get a giant African land snail as a pet.

All is well.