I hate myself.

I've done all the reading and the note taking and the drafting of these essays. They're all there ready. Ready to be typed up and just done and finished and then I can get on with my dissertation (or just, you know drinking and watching tv). Just type them up Sazz. That's all you need to do. Type. Them. Up. And yet here I am, procrastinating- writing about writing them up - BUT NOT WRITING THEM UP. Just going to get another cup of tea thinking 'ok after this tea, this one now, this is when I will start properly, stop faffing, stop internet surfing, stop finding things to wash up. Just go and sit at my laptop and write up my essays'. Will I? No. I come and write a blog entry. I am physically incapable of getting on with my work. When I spoke to my brother last night he was like 'you have a whole week left to hand them in and you're bothering to do them now?' as I was simultaneously freaking out that I HAVE A WEEK LEFT TO HAND THEM ALL IN AND I'M ONLY DOING THEM NOW. We lead very different lives.

Part of it is sitting in my room, I cannot work in my room. I need my room to be my place to chillax and I need somewhere else to work. The last couple of weeks I have gaily walked into the library every day to be an old-skool geek and draft these essays with pen and paper. Which I did. AND NOW I JUST NEED TO TYPE IT UP PROPERLY. It seems to help if I leave my room as I have much much higher chances of running into cute boys (I rarely trip over such creatures in my room). (Sadly). The rewards of the cute boys seem to motivate me into doing work. Unless I speak to one of them like I have done the last two Monday's in a row and find myself daydreaming about 6 foot tall Greeks that are probably a bit too old for me. But I still manage to get work done even then eventually. And yet now I can't. Today, I haven't left the house all day so I have nothing and noone to daydream about. But I can't get on and finish off these essays. Why why WHY?

I keep thinking of that bit in Office Space where Berg from Sex in the City (I can't remember his name in the film) is telling Dr Cox from Scrubs (I can't remember his name in the film) what his daily output of work is as they are assessing who in the office can be fired. By this point in the film Berg has stopped giving a fuck and doing things like turning up at his desk to gut the fish he caught earlier in the day. Therefore he is brutally honest in his self-assessment. He informs Dr Cox that generally his routine consists of him always being at least 20 minutes late and taking the back stairs to get to his desk so he isn't caught wandering in late by his boss, then he takes an hour or so to sit at his desk and just 'zone out' so it looks like he's doing something but really he's just, you know, zoning out. Berg concludes he probably does 15 minutes of real work, in total, per week. Yes. That's me. That's my life. I do that. I am that person.

This is my life. It hurts my soul.

In order to put off DOING THESE DAMN FREAKING ESSAYS TYPE UP THE ESSAYS DO IT DO IT NOW I'm finding things to worry about. When did I eat all those rice cakes? Didn't I buy them yesterday? When did I become a rice cake fan? They taste of ricey cardboard. How can you eat so many rice cakes? There's rice cake dust on top of your television. How does rice cake dust get on someones television unless they are leaving the ricecakes on top of the television? Why are you leaving rice cakes on top of your television? Why have the number of condiments in your fridge started to outnumber the actual proper food you have in the fridge? I currently own; pesto, sweetcorn relish, red onion chutney, light mayonnaise, cherry jam, dolmio pasta sauce. When did you amass such a collection? Are you Edward Norton's character in Fight Club? His condo blew up and all that remained was condiments? Is that going to be you? Does this maybe explain how you can eat so many rice cakes and not remeber doing it? Do you now have multiple personality disorder?

This is my brain. It hurts my soul.

Elsewhere... I love doing my radio show. I havent found anything I love so much since... well ever. I love every aspect of it, choosing the music and planning it out, designing the posters, and maintaing the myspace for it. I actually get to put my music collection to good use and have as a result fallen in love with music again. I didn't realise I'd fallen out of love with it but all relationships get neglected at some point don't they? You just take it for granted that [music] will always be there and you just fall into a familiar routine with [music] without even realising it and before you know it you're cheating on [music] with slutty [sitcoms] just to add some excitement to your life. But I've rediscovered my love of riot grrl and 80s indie and 60s girl groups - remembering all the things I have loved for years and just stopped listening to - The Fall and Ciba Matto and The Raincoats and The Crystals and Refused and The Slits. When and where and why did these things fall out of my life? How and who and what happened to make that happen?

The only thing is - the other radio station people hate me. Well not all of them. A couple like me I think. They compliment my show and say 'hi' when they see me. That's encouraging right? The others... not so much. 'Hate-filled looks' might be stretching the truth a little but you get the general idea. I seem to have this effect on people. Me and people, we just don't get on.