Over the past few weeks I have been wound tighter and tighter. I finally went to the doctor's on Wednesday after having a great big anxiety attack on Tuesday about thinking I was going to die. He listened to my concerns, nodded, and prescribed me anti-depressants for a month.

What the hell, Prozac Nation. I take one every night and it's WEIRD the next morning--or it was for me. I swam through the day, dreaming, and still don't feel completely myself. I still don't feel relaxed and having fun the way I used to on the internet. I still feel...anxious. It's stress and tiredness and not having people to lean on the way I did in First Year, and it's scary.

I dunno. I'm going home this weekend because Mum's got swine flu and I'm going home next weekend anyway. I think that will help. Maybe I will unwind over Christmas? I kind of want to stop taking them--mentioning this on Twitter got me verbal smackdowns from two people who actually have experience with taking anti-depressants, so I'm going to take their advice. It's only a month.

In related news, it's really really cold where I live. maligreen lent me a hoodie and I wore it when I went to go and get the anti-depressants. It's a Psychology Society hoodie. On the back, it says 'PSYCHOSOC.'

You have to laugh. NaNo's going well, broke 32k; the plot is emerging! I'm having fun weaving from absurdism to stream-of-consciousness to naturalism and to sit down and pound out 1667 words a day is good for me. I won't be sad to leave my characters behind--none of them is particularly 'good', we've got a girl convinced she's mental (and she's possibly right), a mother in love with a child rapist, a pious teenager and a gossip married to a police officer who delights in breaking bad news. Still, they're interesting to write.

Today I finished an essay and wrote a script. Today's been a good day re: how much work I got done. I can't wait to go home.

Summary
As if I could have patched him up! Mum had just got in from work. “Well.” “Honestly, Jen. I thought you loved his stuff.”

If I said restaurant, she would have reason to be suspicious. “Yeah. (I’m not sure if they called me crazy. I remember thinking that if I were crazy perhaps he wouldn’t want me. “Alright. “Jen?” I wondered if she was sorting through her head, trying to identify me. Ceri understood, I think. She hummed down the line, faking as if she was thinking, preparing her answers for me.

I mean, if you’re busy...” If people saw us laughing, we were friends again, and Jen looked normal, we were having a good time. Kill someone. If I played my cards correctly, I could even find new bridges.

“Hanging out with Ceri.”

“Well, you never said. Mum must never know. “If you want. My time had been better spent deciding which teachers minded if you did homework, and which didn’t. If the papers found it—they wouldn’t—but if they did—I wondered how I would be painted. “Jen! I wondered if he was still lying in the dried syrup of his sweat and blood, or if he had been found yet. “Wait a bit longer.” Impulsively, I took Ceri’s hand and squeezed. Ceri’s voice saved me: “Chris Fields! Nice, right?”

A smile. Mr. Rollins?”

I called three times!”

I wonder where I would come if it ever got out he had hurt people. “Jen! Death? I had thought too many times death would be a blessing. I wondered if murderers were often skinny if they felt no guilt at all, because the body recognised they weren’t behaving properly and cut off their life support.
Mum had stopped speaking, and I ventured,
Mum looked at me, horrified. Mum was discreetly drying her eyes as the advert ended. I couldn’t even remember if there was a female character in this film—but if there was, I bet she existed to be fallen in love with.

Blonde girls. Dim. Brunette girl. Nice. I sat up as if shocked, and I felt Mum’s horror go through me. “Oh...well, no, I do understand if they needed forensic people.” Mum walked into the room, tugging down her bright jumper. “Jen...” If anyone asks them about their stunning transformation from the haggard robotic mother to strong, if quiet, woman, they will cite you, chapter and verse. “Jen...Mr. Rollins is...”

“I heard, Mum.”
If I was guilty, then Mary, then her husband, then my mother, then the cinema workers. If I had stolen something, it was only small.
I would, if I was in their shoes.

“If you ever need to talk...” I would never talk. I wondered if anyone wished they could be more like me? mum x’

mum x’

“Jen!” Mum, so diligent a worker, had skipped away from studio time. “Well. Was ridding myself of Mr. Rollins worth it if I lost my mother as well, into the bargain?

Broke 11k words on NaNo, recovered from swine flu, back to uni tomorrow! Thank God I got ill in Reading Week...

Swine flu is, as far as I can tell, no more different from normal flu except that it's like a ninja. You keep telling it to go away and it doesn't and when you think it does it announces its return.

Dizzy and chesty (which makes it SO EASY for me to write 1667 words a day, thank you, self), but no longer so nauseous and I haven't thrown up yet today. Fingers crossed.

Diagnosed with swine flu say what?

Jesus, this is getting fucking ridiculous. Happily, I haven't yet had any tamiflu side-effects.

I said before I take to my pen (or keyboard) in moments of high emotion. I think this is still true. I've not been feeling well for a while--hello last two entries--and I'm still not good. I'm ill, and I'm making myself sick (through anxiety and insomnia) My head aches and I'm alone in the house, so worried someone will break in. But aside from that, I'm alright.

I mean, I'm not going to win any happiest bunny competitions, but I'm functioning, which by the end of Thursday I wasn't sure if I could do. I just have to wait until Wednesday morning and then I can go home and relax and not think about kissing Steve and not think about having no money and not think about having to be up for a nine am lecture and not worry about things that will never happen unless I inherited the Crazy Gene.

...so that was meant to be a little bit saying 'I'm not okay, but I will be', and just turned into 'I'M NOT OKAY. SOMEONE SEND A WAAAAAHMBULANCE.' Well done, self.

OKAY. Today I set myself the goal of going to Sainsburys. This goal was achieved. I bought:
Meatballs (for meals on Monday and Tuesday)
Milk (for hot chocolate when I have visitors on Monday)
Cheese (for meals)
Pasta Bake Sauce (for my fucking amazing dish I will make for said visitors)
Doritos (They were on special offer and I love snacks. I had some tonight with some leftover chilli)
Two tins of Quality Street (Buy One Get One Free, for trick-or-treaters)

NO EFFING TRICK OR TREATERS HAVE COME BY. If I am invited to the pub tomorrow I think I shall bring both tins for general consumption.
Just texted my ex-boyfriend to express my consternation over said lack. He has said he would come by and eat it but he's out.

I was going to have a party tonight, but I got ill and cancelled it. Probably for the best. It's a really bad cold, and my sinuses are blocked as hell. Is Hell blocked? See, we were doing Paradise Lost in a seminar the other day and we found Hell to be quite nice. Debates, singing...lovely, really. The downside of this is that I'm feeling a bit lonely--parents STILL in another country, housemates all away--and still sitting here thinking.

Roll on NaNo, where I will be stressed as fuck about my novel!

Thank you to the people who commented. I only take to this LJ in moments of high emotion, it seems, and while that ought to be true for a diary, worrying people is rather a different thing altogether. I'm okay today. I know why I went mad--the whole thing with The Boy and worry about my family--and since neither of those things can be fixed, I'm not okay, but I'm not mental.

I'm taking everything one day at a time. I'm trying not to worry about oversleeping, getting home, train crashes, breaking my ankle, etc., because there's nothing I can do. I need to remember that. Que sera sera and all that stuff.

I've just finished an essay on Margery Kempe--think a fourteenth-century version of that 'Jesus Asked Me Out Today' singer from True Blood. Technically she's Orthodox, but she still makes you feel uncomfortable. To do: type up my script on the maniac in the train carriage, do MacFlecknoe reading and make pasta bake. OH MY GOD I MAY HAVE ACTUALLY DROOLED WHEN I FOUND THIS SAUCE. I love Dolmio, can I state that for the record?

Selling my new boots. I love them, but if they make my bones hurt, I can't keep them. Dad's posted the sale on his bulletin board at work--worn twice, kick-ass, so pretty, size 6. I will use the proceeds to buy a pair of boots that are not too high. sadface, sadface.

Going to cook before staring at my screen for a few more hours, I think. Emma out!

Second year is currently kicking my ass. Today's my day off; no classes, nothing, so I wake up ten minutes before my alarm is set (10.30), get up, get dressed, brush teeth, have an apple, go have coffee with Matt for 12--which he didn't show up for until 12.20, grrr--going to a meeting with my tutor for 12.40, going to open a joint bank account at 2.30, transferring money, making hair appointments, chasing up my prescription--

Essentially, today I've done almost nothing towards my degree and spent £125.

But I've done my pre-lecture reading and seminar work for tomorrow, and am about to do another readthrough of a play for another seminar tomorrow. On Friday I only have one class, so after that I'm going to do more seminar work, and on the weekend I'm going to start both of my eesays and hopefully finish one.

Gawd, I wanna go home for a bit. I don't like being responsible! I want to go and spend an afternoon in the Bullring and buy a frivolous, gorgeous dress! The only trip I've made to town so far was on Saturday, where I attempted to open another bank account, and made the fabulous purchase of cut-price underwear and some new jeans.

I may sound like I'm complaining. I'm not. I'm just not used to being this busy, and I'm currently quite ill so everything is a big deal. Home represents doing no work at all, having my meals cooked for me, and having a tumbledryer that WORKS.

Now for a crumpet to keep me going.

I mistyped that as 'okay guts', and while that's still a valuable message, it's not the one I meant.

You all know I've moved in to my new house, I suppose, and today the last of the housemates arrived--everyone meet maligreen. It's a very small house (six rooms), and very sweet. A couple lived in it before us, so it's well looked after and the bathroom is amazing, and an old woman named Mrs. Hasty lives right next door. We will have no raucous parties, no! My room is homier than it was--I have a Sandman poster up opposite my bed, an ankh on papyrus over my chest of drawers and a Banksy print above my laptop. My bed is huge and warm. I really like living here.

The kitchen's diddy, so we have to stagger who makes what when, but I still love it. So girly and wonderful. We even have fresh roses on the mantelpiece. It's a frightening thing to be living with people you like but are not related to--I didn't have that last year, not one jot. So there'll be arguments (Rachel says she's a wimp, but I've seen her when she's seething, and Ali and I are both hot-headed) but hopefully it'll be in a sitcom way where we all make up at the end of the episode.

Mum left us some money to buy things we needed--my first purchase was a chair. The one already in my room was terribly rickety and didn't support my back at all. I purchased one from Staples (£40) and Rachel and I just made it. There was panic at first because we thought there weren't any instructions, and then I screwed on a handle the wrong way round, but I'm sitting on it now and it's not breaking! Ali and Rachel need to buy themselves a toaster.

Today was the day I helped out at the Societies Fair on behalf of sci-fi; I handed out a great deal of leaflets, smiled a lot, and then got thrown out by security because there were too many people in the tent and leafleteers weren't important. Still, apparently lots of the girls I gave flyers to signed up for the meetings, which gives me happiness.

I had to leave before I could see my friend Cat, who's doing Music and English, and I was about fifty houses away from mine before she texted 'If you're still on campus, do you want to go get coffee?' I had to say no, but then I remembered how shit I felt when I didn't see Sarah at all last year despite us practically living in the Arts building, and I've reorganised coffee for tomorrow. I've got to sort out a clash, too...at Thursday, at 11am, I am meant to be just finishing up my Generic Transformations lecture, as well as sitting down several buildings away for Drama and Media, as well as going to my Generic Transformations seminar.

Of course, Tuesday and Wednesday I have off. Such is life.

I should probably do some reading, but to be honest I'll probably just practice for the Sweeney Todd audition on Monday. I'm doing 'I Don't Know How To Love Him', because it's a soft song not unlike 'Wait', in about the same range, and it requires a lot of control. And you know what? The girl at the Musical Theatre Society stall remembered me from my previous auditions :D I hope, I hope, I HOPE I GET IT.

Let's pause a moment to laugh at the people still stuck behind stalls.

Slightly scared! Rachel made tea tonight, and we await maligreen on Wednesday.

That said: pub, anyone? 8pm tonight.

...sadly, Dad was still acting like a dick throughout the drinks and the starter which made me worry he was going to be a dick all through the meal and then I became a nasty person myself.

Dad has some rather odd rules for the house--you can't eat if you're sitting on the three-seater sofa, only the two-seater, you can't watch more than one film in a day and you can't have a Chinese takeaway on a Sunday. He's generally lovely, so we don't stress about it, but Fiona wanted to go to the flicks on Saturday a few hours after we wanted to go see Dorian Gray and Dad went bananas. As it is, though, we might *not* be seeing Dorian Gray because we couldn't use our free tickets for it and anyway Fiona's going to see the film tonight.

I still have packing to do. I need to take my Norton anthologies, shoes, clothes, chargers, computers and computer-stuff and bathroom stuff down on Sunday. Naturally, today I have done nothing but watch TV and worry about this dentist's appointment I have. I don't want a filling! I've only ever had one before! And it's not going to be white so I'll look like I've been eating bullets! [/wangst]

On a more positive note, holy shit the launch party for the anthology I'm in is very soon :D I am literally incredibly excited, and will apparently receive a prize. Book tokens?? To me, that's basically money. Cat's coming to Birmingham (my friend Cat, not my cat-cat) and she's joining sci-fi :D and the auditions for Sweeney Todd are next Monday and THERE IS NO HUMILIATING DANCE AUDITION, JUST A 'MOVEMENT WORKSHOP' WHICH WILL BE A LOT MORE FUN :D

Dad yelling at Fiona equals Fiona crying to Mum equals Mum yelling at Dad equals me hiding.

The problem is with Dad and Fiona, and I don't know if I can help. It's pretty obvious Dad gets on better with me than anyone else in the house, really, but he has no. clue. how. to handle. A fourteen-year-old. He loves her so much, but can't really tell that hey! She's NOTHING like me, and you can't treat her the same way because a) your teasing isn't funny to her, it just pisses her off, b) She has a knack for picking bad times to talk to you, but she's not doing it to annoy you, she's doing it because there is rarely a 'good' time to speak to you nowadays, and c) SHE IS JUST NOTHING LIKE ME OKAY THANKS.

The fam's rallying around as I leave for uni again, and, as is the way in this house, money and food are equated with love. So I'm rich and fatter, and Dad and Fiona have both said, independently of one another, they'll miss me when I'm gone. We're going out for dinner tomorrow night at my favourite restaurant, and Dad is paying for everything left right and centre. Possibly because I mentioned I've just stepped into my overdraft. Fiona's having lovely heart-to-hearts with me (always, always coinciding with speaking to ekwy, not that I'm complaining, I speak to her a lot) and Mum did my washing for me today while I was out :O

Today was a really great day. I'm tired as fuck but got back late and I'm not ready to go to sleep yet. I got up early to go with Dad to work so I could walk into the city. I bought more than I intended (frivolous purchase: new earrings! Okay, awesome, I only spent £6--oh, shit, I'm really woozy--okay, some food and drink, bit more than I wanted to spend--HOLY SHIT BODY, CAN YOU NOT DO THAT IN THE MIDDLE OF TOWN AND WHY DO I NOT HAVE MY BAG WITH ALL THE NECESSARY LADYSTUFF--aaaand wooxiness again, shall there be chocolate involved this time? Oh well), and then we went to Birmingham. Dad hung my curtains, I unpacked and set out all my books and perfume and stuff that I won't need til I move in proper on Sunday, and texted Matt.

I was worried it would be weird seeing him, but it wasn't at all. It was great, we caught up and I got to see his new house! Three floors, man. Awesome. Much tidier than his place last year, too. And pretty close to my place, too! God, that's...four people I know living on practically the same road as me?

Then we went down to Selly Sausage and met up with Alana and Steve; I didn't eat there because the cafe hadn't emailed me back with a gluten-free menu (fuckers) and so I wasn't too happy with them. After, we went on to the pub, stayed a while and played Gabriella Cilmi on the jukebox, and then I left amid much jollity. It was definitely good to test the waters and discover I can hang out with my ex and our friends and not let it be totally weird. Just two awkward moments.

Can't wait to move back Sunday with people I care about :) I love the house I'm typing this in, but some of the atmosphere gets so thick and clinging. Fiona wants me to visit every weekend so she can talk to me about...well, I'm not even sure. All I got were a few oblique references to being 'scared of everything when it's dark' and general worry she's inherited the crazy from both sides of the family. Dad feels 'trapped' when I'm not there. Mum and he are still at loggerheads over everything. Much as I'm ecstatic about moving to Birmingham again, there's a kind of static over this place that doesn't let me enjoy it as much as I want to.

( Girly stuff I may as well post to tmi_chix )

I'm entertaining myself right now whilst reading my ongoing birthday present from ekwy and reading The Fabulous Lorraine's blog. Thankfully, the crush I mentioned has subsided a bit. If you want to get ANYWHERE with me, making jokes about rape isn't a good way to go about it. He has fallen far in my esteem.

On a related note, my Dad used the word 'dyke' today, to refer to Jo Brand, the comedian. First, it's factually inaccurate--she's married, I believe. Second, the word is offensive. Unless you've basically been given permission to use it, back off. It's like calling a trans person 'tranny' and acting all baffled when they react badly. 'But I have trans friends and THEY don't mind!' Yeah, they're not all one hivemind. Third, he's stuck in his ways so correcting him probably won't help much. I can try. That's all I can do, right now. If I can even change one person's perception of the world so they'll try to stand in someone else's shoes, I will have helped.

I remember I was speaking to a friend of mine, Scott, and said I was a feminist. He immediately laughed and asked if I was all for the subjugation of men. Why do people still think feminists are man-hating lesbians? Surely it's about equality?

I'd like to say Mary Daly's responsible, but come on--there are going to be crazies in every group, but not a lot of groups are still--I won't say 'shunned' by the mainstream, more 'acepptable targets'--the way that feminists are. Part of the problem is culture, which (sorry, blokes) is still very much wired towards men. Television shows, adverts (Yorkie, I'm looking at you), video games, anime (the time I walked into Forbidden Planet and saw a statue of a sexually-posed restrained Misa from Death Note comes to mind)--isn't it sad that we have to clap and note it down when a show has two female leads who converse about something other than a man?

I'm still wide awake. I'll read more.

Some boy racer fucking drove into me today. The wing mirror pinged off--the plastic bit, the mirror just cracked in an interesting bow-like pattern--and then he just fucking drove off.

My ear was ringing and I was shaking a bit, but my driving instructor was fab and checked we could still legally use said mirror and everything, and got the plastic bit from the middle of the road, and since we had 1 hour 40 minutes left of said lesson, persuaded me to carry on.

Yes. Very frightening. And I am going to find him.

And when I find him, I'm going to knock on his door, hefting a baseball bat and smiling.

And another mirror is going to be crack'd from side to side.

I totally forgot about promising janebuzz_jane21 Out Tonight.

So here it is. A bit hit and miss on the later 'OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO' bits, but I rock the earlier ones:

And, again, because it's fun:

I have a microphone and a recording program that can make mp3s. What should I record for your (dubious) listening pleasure? I know a lot of modern pop, and many showtunes.
Anyways, if you feel like it, suggest something and I'll record if I know it.

I sent in the first chapter and the book proposal.

...what if all the literary novels gang up on my short YA genre fiction piece? *wibble*

(I'm not expecting to get it, but I've written my first proposal and sent it off. So I'm learning even though there's only a very slim chance I'll get it.)

Wales. Land of hills. Land of dragons. Land of kitesurfing.

In Wales:

*I did not get an internet connection
*I watched a lot of Gossip Girl
*I read a lot
*I found out I came fourth in a writing competition
*I went to a themepark and my sister and her friend went on most of the rides
*I got a minor concussion when I slipped and banged my head at the themepark
*On the way home, we went to see the Banksy exhibition; we queued for three hours. Totally worth it.
*I just slept for ten hours
*I discovered I am not actually very good at holidays.

Wales tomorrow.

I am bringing lots of DVDs, books and sleeping pills.

I have a microphone and a recording program that can make mp3s. What should I record for your (dubious) listening pleasure? I know a lot of modern pop, and many showtunes.
Anyways, if you feel like it, suggest something and I'll record if I know it.

( Cold Skin & Velvet )

Another Vanessa Hudgens nude pictures scandal has broken. God, I feel so bad for her. I don't care if you think she's a skank, she can't act, she's using her arguably more-famous boyfriend, she's doing this because she has a new movie coming out, whatever--nobody deserves to have their private stuff splattered all over the web for strangers to gawk at and declare that she needs to 'trim her bush.'