one more moan on this beautiful Sunday

I am not psychic. I am bored of asking 'how high?' when you tell me to jump. I am sick of being reliant on you all for money. Stupid me for becoming a student. I am tired of always having to back down and be always being on your side, or your side or your side. I would like to be on my side. Which is no side at all. You're all wrong. I am sorry that sometimes I am thoughtless because I have an awful lot going on in my head. I am not feeling sorry for myself and I do not want to cry. I am not sad. I am merely frustrated that I have to constantly tip-toe on egg shells all of the time and yet if I am feeling sad or tearful or anxious or like crying, I am being melodramatic. And a troublemaker. And don't accuse me of not caring for our dogs. I do. I stress out. I take them to the vet. I complain to the vet about poor service. I trek to and fro across London. I may not have paid completely for things, but, trust me, I have paid.

So, shaddap. Stop fucking griping and guilt-tripping and moaning. And arguing.

I shouldn't be judgemental

but I don't like it when people cheapen themselves, know that I won't and don't approve and expect something more friendly than 'ok, well that was a bit cheap, wasn't it?' as a reply to their sordid, drunken fumblings.
This is my message to you Rudy:
I thought more of you than that, is all, I guess. I thought you of all people would not behave in a manner that you chastise others for behaving in and you can justify it all you like. I am not the one to judge you, you can do that all on your own. I just don't understand. I don't care how drunk, stoned or tired (or needy) you were. I don't care that you did it (I sure have heard worse) I just care that you felt the need to tell me, in the way that you did, like I cared and THEN got a bit annoyed that I had nothing to say in response to your big, grand revelation. Grow up. That's my advice. Grow up and concentrate on getting your degree. Stop drinking so much and getting yourself into situations that you are uncomfortable with. Your latest Facebook update was another thinly veiled cryptic message about regretful shenanigans. I dread to ask, so I won't. After all, I have an essay to write. See? Priorities. Dumbo!

How I Wasted Reading Week and how it all went wrong

Not only have I done no work, no reading, no planning and no dissertation stuff but I have now got a massive cut on my right thumb. OUCH! Being right-handed is at my disadvantage for the moment.
I am sure that my 2 assignments due on Tuesday will be done, after all they are only 2,500 words (altogether!). I shall be fine.
I worry too much. About time, money, the dogs, my thumb (although only since yesterday), my parents, my brothers, my future, my love life...
I need to take Valium perhaps.
The Apprentice is on so I shall watch that, then American Dad, then eat a biscuit then go to sleep, then wake up, trek to Mile End, attend lecture and seminar then DO SOME FUCKING WORK, then relax... It's a lot to get through.