1:44 p.m. - 2005-03-16
Everybunny needs somebunny sometime...
I think I�ve lost the will to write.
When I first moved to London, I was in a writing frenzy kind of mood. I�d be sitting in my Box late at night, often accompanied by a bottle of wine, and experience life changing epiphanies that were screaming to be recorded. These days, I sit in front of the TV most nights, sometimes accompanied by my housemates (and perhaps a bottle of wine) and watch American TV/movies until it�s time for bed. I�m not complaining about the change of scenery, but the lack of inspiration is somewhat unsettling.
I blame it on the Creative Writing course.
Truth is, I didn�t really get much out of the class, either personally or practically. The assignments weren�t to my taste and when I did them, the feedback was infrequent and lame. Often when I read my homework out for the class, the instructor would cock his head and say, in his most feathery, artsy-fart voice, �Gee, I like that,� and go on to the next person. No indication of why he liked it, or what was good or bad about it, but wasn�t it nice to know that the teacher got a warm fuzzy from my creative efforts?
I eventually came to the conclusion that he didn�t think I was taking the course seriously. He would assign us a poem to write and I�d come back with lines like �I wait for my turn with the joystick� while the others were experimenting in pseudo-Shakespearean verse. I�m more of what I would call a literalist. I don�t do flowery metaphors and free verse poetry. I like limericks and opinion pieces. I like writing out what I think and do without a lot of flash and fancy (although, I would like to point out that last bit of alliteration). In the end, I don�t think anyone really got what I did.
And yet, there is a huge sense of failure hanging around my neck. The last assignment was to write a short story based on a memory. I thought I had a great idea, I really wanted to hand it in for some hardcore feedback and I was ready to finish something I had started. But, in the end, I just didn�t have enough enthusiasm to get the job done. I skipped the previous class in favour of watching �Desperate Housewives� and I won�t be going to tonight�s final class because, really, what�s the point?
And that�s the question that rings in my ears every time I sit down in front of this computer and contemplate adding an entry to this diary. I�ve lost the will to create. My muse has left the building. I�m out of epiphanies but still downing the wine. My mind is a blank page.
Sigh.
In other news, I�ve started my Calculus course.
1:09 p.m. - 2005-02-15
Bunny, bunny, bunny....must be funny, in a rich man's world
Late Breaking News from the London Metropolitan Police:
They found my wallet. Exclamation point! Obviously it came to them a little lighter than when if left my person, but it's at the West End Police station waiting for me to pick it up.
Cool, eh?
The funny thing is the police weren't even the ones to call me about it. It was my friendly neighbourhood video store clerk who stole that honour. I guess the cops found my membership card, called up the store and got them to let me know my wallet had turned up.
I just hope the membership card isn't the only thing that's left in there. I don't really use them much anymore...
3:04 p.m. - 2005-02-14
the bunny told me love sucks big time
I have one thing to say about this day:
Bah Lovebug >:(
I have many things to say about this past weekend.
Friday night was a night much like any other drunken evening out. Knocking back 4 or 5 pints in a crowded pub far too quickly (11 pm last call, people!) and stumbling home in as graceful a manner as can be mustered under such circumstances. Unbeknownst to me, however, dark forces had gathered around me last night and wreaked havoc on my Saturday morning. Picture this:
I�m sleeping quite soundly in my bed, snoozing away any trace of hangover that might threaten an otherwise pleasant day. At around 10 am, I get a call. I half-wake up and check the number. I don�t recognize it and decide to let them leave a message. Which they do, but curiosity gets the better of me and I check it right away.
�Miss Ellis, this is Natwest bank calling regarding your MasterCard, could you please call back at this number right away��
Well, that�s odd. I wonder what they could want. Are they raising my limit again? Did I win a prize? Are they trying to sell me something? Hmmm�.
Where�s my wallet?
And so the adventure begins. My wallet is in none of the places that I would normally find it, namely in my bag or on the floor near my bag. It�s also not in my jacket, not on the front lawn and not in my closet. It�s at this point that at my stomach drops and my eyebrows lift.
Awwwww SHIT!
I call back the nice Credit Card people who do indeed confirm that someone else has been using my card. Wonderful! What else was in my wallet? Another credit card and a bank card � cancel those as well. Super! Wait, I�ve got mom�s credit card in there. Hi mom? Yeah, you�re probably going to want to take care of that. Brilliant! My license is gone, too. Goody! But the best part of it all, the icing on the cake, if you will: my brand spanking new National Insurance Number card. It only took my 8 months to finally get it (not including the time I spent two years ago attempting to apply for the goddamned thing!) and three whole weeks after that, I have to report it stolen. Whoop-dee-doo!
You know, it is a funny feeling knowing that someone is out there trying to fake being you. I realize they�re not donning a brown wig and horn-rimmed glasses to pull it off, but it�s still creepy. I can picture them going over all my various club cards and membership id�s, picking through the pockets, fondling all of my things. I feel violated somehow, even if only a little.
The last laugh, however, is mine. A couple of weeks ago, I bought a plane ticket home and used my MasterCard to pay for it. Couple that with my ever-increasing debt and you would find that there was only about �80 credit left on the thing. The nice Credit Card people called me after they noticed that Lauren E. was trying to purchase an item worth �220. Considering I only had �20 on me at the time, it�s comforting to know that, at least, the bastards didn�t get much out of me.
2:09 p.m. - 2005-02-06
Fuzzy Bunny Slippers
I pay for this damn thing, I should probably use it slightly more often.
Well, Dear Reader, I'm very glad I added that "maybe" to my last post. Otherwise, I might have been accused of being dishonest. It's been a long time, yes. But, fear not, I'm still here, kicking around, getting drunk in foreign locations and trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my life.
In other words, not much is new.
I suppose that's not entirely true, there have been some small happenings in the past month or so, which I will heretofore highlight. (Note: I don't really know if I used the word "Heretofore" in its correct usage, or even spelled it correctly, but I just felt like popping it in there.)
- I moved. Out of The Box (for that is what it shall forever be known as in my head) and into a bright, happy, fun-filled house. My roommates are perfectly live-withable and we're getting along just fine. Yay me.
- I joined a gym. No, it was not a New Year's Resolution, it was a "I'm paying less rent and can now afford it " resoluation. I'm now in week 4, and I can report that it's going swimmingly (not literally, though, there's no pool). I'm hoping to say good-bye to my beer gut sometime before the summer. It'll be rough, we've had some good times together, but I think it's for the best. Mother Beer, however, will still visit from time to time.
- I started my creative writing class and, with the exception of the "heretofore" incident earlier on, I'm really not feeling that much more creative. It's all poetry, metaphores, imagery and the like and to be perfectly honest, if it's not a limerick, I've never really had that much interest in the stuff. Ah well, I'll stick it through and get what I can out of it, but I think my next course will be photography.
- Bronwyn is walking. And she's learned her first word: "NO". Needless to say, my job just got a whole lot more exciting.
