Michelle Taylor

Um, in the hope of not sounding tremendously mopey, I had a wonderful day yesterday. I started out by giving mdavison a lift to the Noise, which is an 'event' our church does every now and again where we do odd jobs for the people in Kings Hedges, mostly old ladies who need their garden de-jungled. Then I weeded a garden for a nice old lady who gave us orange juice and talked about her grandchildren, with two girls I vaguely know from church who were quite entertaining and talked about teaching and psychology. When we'd finished, we went back to Daily Bread (a health-food co-operative that we were using as a base) and I talked to Marika in between her running around organising things (which involved little running around and many phone calls - I lent her my phone after both hers and the other organiser's ran low on batteries and needed to be saved for incoming calls). I shared lunch with a bunch of people, then I took a full car of people home around Cambridge.

The afternoon was a bit of a wash-out; I was half-blind and numb from the mental paralysis I've been experiencing lately, so I played computer games until Nicholas showed up. We went to Chapel, which was, as usual, 'nice' but vaguely disappointing, especially because the speaker was talking in fluent Theology rather than making any sense, while repeatedly asserting that what he was saying was essential for everyday Christianity without actually describing any application or giving any proof of this. Then we faffed for a bit, and I finally managed to persuade Nicholas to tag along to Douglas' barbeque.

The actual barbeque bit kind of happened in the garden, and I stayed in the kitchen, because when I got there people were being organised for food preperation, so I spent most of the evening making salads. I like making salads, especially when someone's done all of the difficult and boring going-to-the-shops-and-getting-ingredients stage, and there are plenty of people to eat it so it won't become sad and pathetic and dead. So I made two quite impressive-looking layer salads. It was dark and cold in the garden and there weren't enough seats, so I don't think I would have enjoyed trying to be sociable out there anyhow, and I wasn't very hungry. There was some very nice cheese bread and garlic bread which I nibbled, as well as some nuts.

Eventually I finished making the salads and Nicholas and I went into the nice, well-lit room indoors that nobody was using, and ate nice biscuits and chocolate. I heared Sunhawks on the playlist and commented that it was very good, which led us to fiddling with the computer to make it give us the rest of Oathbreakers, and then Louise bringing out the whole Lackey collection when everyone gradually migrated indoors and found me dancing to Oathbreakers.

I sat listening to cool music and talking to Louise about how Treasure Trap needed more filk for quite a while, until she got bored and changed the music back to the dull playlist, at which point I discovered I was very tired and ought to go home. Once we'd ascertained that Louise actually couldn't make it to TT except possibly for an hour or so on Friday nights, we ran off. I was quite happy and drove home in a slightly dangerous but most enjoyable fashion with loud Evanescence playing. Proving that I was in fact not drunk (I was feeling vaguely passively drunk, although of course I hadn't had any alcohol) I decided against going for a run up the M11 with loud music, and pulled in to Churchill sensibly.

We then played music for a while before falling asleep. In particular, this is remarkable for the line 'And praise will come to those whose kindness leaves you without debt', from Faster Than Light by Neil Finn, which I felt summed up my day - and why it was so excellent, and why life should be like that - quite well.

It's sad that the world doesn't work like that, because I think if I was doing all of the things I am 'meant' to be doing voluntarily then I would find it a lot easier to get them done. There is something about having to do something to 'survive' or to 'be socially acceptable' that makes it almost impossible for me to do it; hence most of the problems I am having.

I am hoping that most of this mind-blankness is due to me being slightly messed up on hormone pills at the moment, as my period is now due, and maybe if I manage to bleed this week I will be back on form for some serious cramming the week before the exams. But... I'm not actually stressed, or worried, or unhappy, although occasionally I feel very frustrated and occasionally I try to make myself feel unhappy because I feel that I ought to be disappointed with myself. I just feel... content. I'm not sure how to actually accept this, though, or indeed whether it's a good idea to.

First, a practical thing: does anyone know much about chiropody in Cambridge? I appear to have ingrowing toenails which keep being ingrowing again after I attack them viciously with toenail-cutting implements, and I'd like to find someone competent to work out what's gone wrong, but I don't really know how to go about this without it costing lots of money.

Second, http://www.politicalsurvey2005.com/ is a very good website, and reminds me why I am distinctly puzzled how otherwise perfectly nice people can vote Tory, given their vast preference for the 'hanging/flogging' and 'free market' end of the scale. The free market is not very nice (it promotes inequality which makes people resentful, it means some people starve whilst others live in luxury, it is *not very nice*) and punishing criminals rather than trying to rehabilitate them is also not very nice. I probably have more cogent arguements why each is a bad idea, but fundamentally I object to them because they are Not Very Nice.

Thirdly, it's springtime and sunny, but everything still feels and tastes like dust and ashes to me. I just walked out of church this morning and went home because I felt I was harming the important things that were going on there (lots of prayer for the summer mission and some people going out to do primary healthcare stuff in rural India) just by being there. I'm not really sure what's wrong; I just have that big cloak of cobwebs back.

I am incapable of even catching up with LiveJournal, let alone giving a witty and insightful account of my life for the last however long it's been since I updated this properly.

Currently I am rather depressed; not really in an 'unhappy' sense, although it's getting that way because my guilt at not having done much is heaping up, but in a 'absolutely no motivation to get up and do anything' sense. Mm, holidayitis.

Why aren't I asleep? I want to be asleep.

Um. You guys? You guys are great. (The ones who commented on my last post, specifically, but the rest of you I'm pretty sure are also great, even if your talents don't lie in the area of Cheering Up Depressed Chessypigs.)

I am now very tired and am going to sleep, but I just wanted to thank everyone because I needed to hear the things you've been saying.

Night.

On reflection, I should have gone back to Churchill before it started snowing.

Today I walked to lectures through a blizzard. It was, however, a very short-lived blizzard; just enough to damp-ify my new fluffy hat. The hat seems to have survived quite well, though. Insert rant here about how many hats I lose and how they're quite expensive.

I also managed to drag myself into town in the slightly warmer part of the day just after lunch, and bought myself nice pate and nice bread and nice fruit (cherries and 'tropical fruit' and figs; the tropical fruit was very nice and I wish I'd paid more attention to what it actually *was*). I like food, which is something of a shame because I am still rather oversized for a Chessypig. I think I might invest in some new size 14 jeans and admit I'm just going to be roundy again. The fat might insulate me against the cold, after all, because it is Very Freezing.

Currently I'm still kind of suffering from depression; I meant to do stuff this afternoon and spodded and ate fruit instead. At least I am now snacking on fruit rather than chocolate, which seems like an improvement. Church last night mostly made me cry because I was in a 'woe, I shall never be happy again and there are lots of happy people here' kind of mood, but eventually I calmed down. Now I'm reasonably content, just prone to hermitting, which is why I'm here writing long LJ posts rather than out at Ark. (Well, that and the freezing cold, which meant that it was easier to run to Hall than to walk.)

I started working on an Ars Magica character generator, but got snarled up in the vast quantity of data entry required. Also, I swear this chair is going to kill me if I sit in my room and code too much.

The dreaded Group Project has begun; so far we have a Real Manager (Part II General, did some management courses, doesn't know the difference between Java and Javascript or that someone has to install and maintain things which are on the web instead of them magically appearing), two mathmos, two coders and a web monkey, oh and me, who has managed to get herself volunteered for 'Documenter' and 'Programming Manager', which apparently means I get to maintain the Vast UML Diagram of Doom and try and munge together the code that the others write. Why is it that I can never just let people be incompetent? In case you're interested, we're doing the Lottery Server project, which is actually a web interface for university societies to run raffles.
( TT on Saturday. It good. )
Now, if only I could actually be as interested in my Ars Magica characters...

I like conferences. They mean I get interesting things like 'guinea-fowl in red wine sauce' to eat in Hall. Even if 'guinea-fowl' is just like slightly rubbish chicken.

Took my poor car to the garage today, had some mechanics do £52 of incomprehensible things to it, which apparently have fixed the boot door and the gear linkage problem that was making it slip out of first gear, but not the squeak because it was doing the whole 'act nice for the mechanics' thing, or the passenger door because that required a part replacing which cost over £50 on its own.

Went to the doctor's on Monday; they recommended that I switch contraceptive pills and told me that the new ones were safe to take for two months in a row. So that was some useful information. Shame I got the appointment time wrong due to having temporarily misplaced my Psion, and hence ended up sitting in the waiting room for an hour listening to old ladies talk about a new housing development and reading back issues of 'Woman' and a National Geographic from 1994. Managed to actually get my prescription on the way to pick up the car, although still forgot to go to the dentist's and work out what Paperwork of Doom I require to get registered with them.

So I did most of the things I had planned for today, although I really need to stop procrastinating on writing CVs. The problem is, I have now written them for the two companies I actually want to work for, so I'm less enthusiastic about doing so for the four or so others which I feel I ought to apply to. The dreaded meh appears to have worn off, though, which is good.

...and I don't even have my period to blame at the moment.

Whilst looking through the vacation work files, I found an advert for a job that I would actually like to do. This has not helped, because it means I get to be disappointed when I don't get it. I won't get it, because although I am pretty much perfect for it I don't have much on paper to prove this, and they have probably found someone already who appears to have more domain knowledge from their listable experience.

I ate breakfast about an hour ago and am wondering whether to bother with lunch, as there's no nice cheese left anyway. Maybe I should just drink some nice fruit juice. All of these things would require me to move, though, and my tuits all went missing again.

Did I mention how much I loathe the holidays? I still have two spare weeks in Easter, in which I shall go insane. Next week, thankfully, I have lots of panicking about summer job applications and walking across town in the dark and attempting to buy new trousers because all of my trousers have either developed holes in the rear or are too small to be worn by the New, Fat Chessypig. (I just wish my face didn't get fat, because otherwise I would just laugh maniacally at anyone who dared call me fat for not fitting into some size 12 things.) I am also quite terrified by the size of my thighs, which are now about three hand-spans around and mean I don't even quite fit into the old
pair of leggings I dragged out of retirement because of my lack of trousers.

Christmas happened.

I went to Lincolnshire for most of Christmas. There, I played computer games and ate too much. Nicholas' family were lovely as usual. The people who they had round on Christmas Day offended me for reasons probably more to do with me than them. (The main speaker, the father, was involved in a legal firm which didn't take legal aid cases and seemed to pride themselves on this, and was generally unconsciously misogynistic throughout his conversation; the eldest son was a car salesman with *salesman's eyes*. They reminded me why normal people scare and sicken me quite so much.)

I have instructed tienelle not to let me play computer games, possibly ever again. Computer games are bad for me. At the very least I can write surreal short stories instead. Or read books.

After Lincolnshire I went home to see my parents, which was almost but not quite an unmitigated disaster. We did manage a couple of walks where I remembered why I quite like my parents really, but I'd put on a bit of weight over Christmas and had ample oppertunities to remind myself why I can't live with them any more. It did not help that both me and my mother had PMT. We went to the 'Eyes, Lies and Illusions' exhibition on the South Bank which was vastly uninspiring, and watched 'The Returner', which was a lousy piece of Japanese gun-fu. We also watched Troy, which was technically good but not quite stunning enough to get through my general PMT-induced antipathy to life.

(The main problem that I have with my parents at the moment is that my mother cannot accept that I can't be her perfect daughter even though the steps to become such are trivial to her and hence I must only not be taking them out of laziness and probably spite and insufficient love for her. Hence I spend the time I am with them pretending to be somebody I'm not, which is rather stressful but the only way, I have been informed, that I can stay on speaking terms with my parents at all; if I don't conform to this particular set of 'perfectly reasonable' expectations I can not be part of the same society as them, apparently, and hence can never meet them.)

Now I am sitting around in Oblivion wondering if the last two members of our rather sadly failed party are going to arrive. I am a bit hurt about this, really; I don't understand what further communication was needed besides my post, except perhaps a clarification of times, and don't see where any such was requested which I haven't replied to.

I probably should do something about the vast and cavernous gap between my last proper diary entry and the events covered herein, but I am not sure I have the energy. I might write nonsense or do memes instead. I feel like sitting and typing, but I don't have the energy for research. (I have a Rondak's Portal game that desperately needs some love, and an idea for an Ars Magica campaign which I Must Not Run - although I might consider doing it online somehow (I already submitted it as a Portal game, but doubt I'll have much interest there unless some people from here are willing to use that method, which I'm comfortable with and seems to work quite well but you might not be).