All these things that I've done...

I finished my extended essay!!!!!!!!!

Well, sort of. I have finished the first draft, which needs to be teased away from anti-neocolonial polemic and directed firmly back towards the actual question (which was something about language policy, wasn't it?) and I have to go through and reference everything properly so I don't get sentenced to death by firing squad for plagiarism. I also need to make 1 655 words disappear, and format it properly, and find out what that tribe in northern Nigeria that I wanted to talk about was. I felt briefly joyful, until I remembered the amount of work I had left to do on it. And, indeed, the amount of work I have left to do.

Went to see Spamalot last Monday, which was really, really cool. On Tuesday I went to EMS dinner and I had an absolutely riotous time, there was lots of pennying going on, and I went to the beer cellar afterwards, and then went to Babylove with a friendly medic, and didn't feel rubbish the next morning! And danced! When did I last do that?! I feel young and spontaneous and healthy again! On Wednesday, I went to see Hot Fuzz which was also good fun! I want to ride around in a police car with a swan. Otherwise I have been buried in my room with four dictionaries and a book called 'Gender', which is not about social stereotyping, but about grammar.

Ooh, iTunes just gave me one of my favourite songs. I like it when that happens.

I got the questions for my take-away paper. They're VILE!

My kitchen is full of revelling footballers eating scones.

Nik has manflu again and spent all morning skulking around my room spreading germs and stopping me achieving anything meaningful, without actually being a fun distraction. I've been dutifully making lemsips and trying to be helpful, and now he's left, without even taking the vitamin C that I offered him. Ungrateful swine! He has to go to Wokingham tomorrow to talk about becoming an actuary. I'm currently trying to decide if this is something I want to be a party to.

I'm also trying to decide if I want to be a speech therapist and if I'd actually be any good at it if did. Part of me has always thought I should do something really useful with my life. And all of the useful things I've done have been really rewarding. Part of me thinks I'm really rubbish at anything that requires good interpersonal skills and being practical and that I'm motivated more by self-flagellating white-middle-class guilt than any sort of innate aptitude.

Like most of my sudden epiphanies about my career I'll probably change my mind in a couple of weeks and go back to Plan B* of temping and seeing what happens.

Argh, help, I can't stop footnoting things!!

Best put some make-up on and go to choir methinks...

*I call it Plan B because I feel like there should be a Plan A that is preferable to data entry. Yet, there is no Plan A.