See Journal...I was not lying...Im back!

Being at home has given me food for thought (and also lots of real food too, mothers love to fatten their kids up!). The home is so important to us mammals.

Every creature has an understanding of the concept of home. While a simple roof over our head and bed to sleep on would suffice, we have an innate predisposition to 'nest'. Our home is an extension of our character and is a trusted ally. It offers without complaint (or wish for reciprocation) a hot tea to invigorate us, a blanket to keep us warm, a pillow to cry into and a sturdy table for support. Home offers us both a mental and physical shelter from the perpetual storm of life.

Without wanting to generalise, it is often those without a stable concept of the home that face difficulties with security in later life. Without realising, we all create a space that is ours and that becomes essential to our well-being. People find home in all sorts of places, home can be a local bakery or a bench in a favourite park. Home is our state of mind when we feel safe and able to recharge our batteries and reflect on the busy pace of life. However, what sets us apart from other mammals is our secondary desire to decorate and dress up the place we call home.

Ikea is perhaps mecca to this secondary maxim of home. It is a place where we can coordinate our dwelling with big items, small items, throws, cushions, lights and general bits and bobs. It was my visit to this 'home store' that has prompted these thoughts. My friend Satu, her mother and I walked around the whole store delighting in the vast array of homely adornmnets. Satu and I dreamt of our future nests and how we would decorate our kitchen, living room, etc. We became temporary experts on interior design, rejecting minimalism and embracing twee.

The experience had a bittersweet effect, I desperately wanted to buy everything now and go about creating my ideal home. I bypassed depression about my financial state and lack of owned accomodation by focusing on the primary goal of home-making. I found comfort in modest symbols of security; a new plate, a linen storage box and some decorative stickers for my wall.

Despite being able to buy all I wanted, I feel that I am rich in 'home' because I was given the amazing gift of a stable and happy family home and it is this that has allowed be to become an accomplished 'home-maker'. Still...I wouldnt mind going back and buying that cool coffee table...

Livejournal! How the devil are you! Has it really been that long? Im sorry, you know how it is...busy, busy, busy.

Saven and I have decided to have a communicative renaissance. Deliberately pulling away from interactive online media, its nice to nostalgically etch something into cyberspace. Its a true feat to technological advancement to think that blogging is a wayward and archaic tool!

I wont bother to update you with my to-ings and fro-ings of the past two years. Suffice to say a lot has changed since my previous entries...except for Briney, she is still a little messed up!

I am back in Surrey for a brief fling. The longer I am away the more I am charmed by the its pastoral and provisional qualities. This morning I went to my dentist, which was situated in a quaint thatched cottage. This endearing trait had previously gone without notice, but ever since I have lived on an A-road in London its hard not to appreciate Surrey's gated communities and suburban sparkle.

Saven and I sat by the river Thames and mused about life. Its surprising what a couple of miles can do to a body like the Thames. There was no pollution in sight, just swans, the occasional canoe and a grassy knoll. Retaining our bourgeois dignity we slurped Starbucks and talked about Love.

Love is a predominate topic of conversation for friends I have noticed. Love is akin to a new technological fad, par example the I-Phone. You talk about wanting it, it draws you in with its promises and its goal to revolutionise your life. You grow bored and despondent with your old phone, your current state of being. Other people have it and appear to be enriched in body and spirit. Various obstacles exist as to how to get your hands on one; you are already on a contract, you like your current service provider, do you have the money?, is stock available? Finally after much effort and growing contempt, you get one. Not understanding it at first is actually part of its appeal, its new and therefore requires your time and attention. Its becomes less of challenge and strangely familiar feelings of disconent seep in. You grow nostalgic and confused with the new technology. And then you realise, its not what its cracked up to be, it has not enriched your life, you are poorer and exhausted by the whole affair. And then (as if it knows) it gives up the ghost and crashes. You go back to your old phone and your soul feels cheated.

I may have taken the metaphor a step too far...I actually hear I-phones are very good and reliable (just like love).

Later on we picked up Charlie and dodged a potential punch up in the form of her housemates abusive little brother. We did not avoid homophobic and racist insult though, Surrey still has its Chavs just like any place. Drama averted we headed for dinner with my parents at their local restaurant in Leatherhead. My parents go there every week so we were treated favourably and the wine kept flowing. It was really nice to spend time with my closest friends and my parents. It felt like a real family event, an adult family event! If I were more awake and had more energy I would create some kind of metaphor about its emotional significance - maybe likening it to dolby surround sound!?!

But for now I am tired and keen to end this self-indulgent rambling. But Journal, fear not, I am back and this time with more verbose than ever!

Almost 3 months since my last post; how disheartening!
What has happeneded to all of us? Have we all got lives? Are we all content?
For all those who post quasi-freqently; I applaud you! I still check LJ regularly but have transformed from contributor to idle watcher. It ends now, temporarily at least.
It would be rather boring to run through what I have been up to. Let's put it this way; a lot! Instead I will offer you a little self-analysis game you can play with yourself or with your friends. I call it the 'Peej Life Calculator', catchy no?
Ok so here it is: You have 30 points (well done).
You have 4 categories which have a rather wide remit:
i) Social.
ii) Family.
iii) Love.
iv) Work.
You must assess your life currently in relation to each 4 categories and give each category a point score from 1 - 10 (10 being the highest of course).
Now I strongly believe nobody is perfect and that is why you are only given 30 points. You must answer honestly and realise that 10 means you are completely and whole-heartedly content in said field.
You do not need to get rid of every single point, rather give the category an appropriate score. If you are left with a residue you must commit yourself to investing those points pro-actively in the coming week into one of the categories.
Here is an example:
Sandra has 7 for social; 6 for family; 8 for love; 7 for work. This leaves her with 2 point remaining. She must then say "right Im going to put one point into family this week and make sure I call my mother every day and put one into social and make a new friend" or "I am going to put two points into work and look for a job that may suit my skills better and maybe apply to one I like."
Basically it is an exercise to make you take a look at the priorities in your life and make you do something about them.
Go...

Earth carefully maintains a quid pro quo with its natural pleasures and annoyances.
We happily trade good weather for an insect invasion. However, I do not accept the interference of bugs when the weather is shitty.
Today I have had 3 separate and quite traumatic insect incidents. It is not in my nature to kill these creatures as I realise their actions are largely without malice. However, it was insect number one that came to an untimely end...
THE SPIDER:
In order to pack for my week in London I had to get my suitcase from the dusty part of my room. As I moved the suitcase what only can be described as a fat black and red monstrosity began to speed past me. I am not scared of spiders, but this one struck me with unprecedented fear and shock. Under-estimating my fear, the spider ran for its life toward my open wardrobe. The spider was now lost under a pile of shoes, posters and shit. I havnt moved the contents of the bottom of my wardrobe since the pile begun, so I knew that searching for the thing would be a more than ardous task. After re-living my teenage years through the medium of shoes (union jack flip flops and reebok trainers to name but two mistakes) I cleared the pile. With glass in hand I had every intention of delivering the blighter to greener pastures. The spider appeared and ran toward the corner of my room, I lost grip of the glass, leaving only the coathanger (which I used to remove the dusty shoes) at my disposal. I made a decision, it had to die. I stabbed at it with unecessary might. After a bloody battle I had destroyed the helpless creature who was so intent on haunting my room forever.

THE DADDY LONG LEG:
In an attempt to wash my guilty hands and dusty hair, I went to shower. I got undressed and stepped in the shower. But unknown to me, it was already occupied. A daddy long leg the size of an elephant was trying to make its way up the shower. I tried to drown it, but then realised it could easily come up the drainpipe and vengefully kill me in my sleep. I grabbed it lightly with a tissue and moved toward the window. It was crawling over the tissue toward my hand. It was then I remembered the useless trivia that daddy long legs can administer a deadly poison, if not for their inability to bite. But maybe this one had grown up in a nuclear power plant and had evolved!? It crawled closer to my hand so i threw the tissue out the window with ddlg in tow. I presume that the tissue provided a cushion for landing and now the evolved creature is breeding with plans of world domination.

THE WASP:
Hours later, I was chilling in my room with the window slightly ajar. A wasp sneaked through and made a wasp-line for me. This one could actually hurt me, and I was unwilling to play victim. I ran out of my room and watched, with the door to shield me, as the wasp enjoyed my room. 5 minutes later it went toward the sofa and then I lost it. 10 minutes later I went back in the room and started moving furniture violently before quickly running out the room, in attempt to uncover the wasp. It was nowhere to be seen. It is still nowhere to be seen.
My theory; spider was a close personal friend with wasp, they had a 'thing' in 2003 and wasp never really got over him. Though daddy long leg and spider werent friends, ddlg knew of spider and his reputation in the 26 Mead Crescent bug crew. After his escape, which he would later adapt to make him sound like a modern insect Houdini, he let wasp know of his ex-lovers tragic end. Wasp, filled with anger and sorrow, made his way to my room with the purpose of venging spiders' death. Now he sits, and waits until dark, when he can strike...

Inspired by my pop cohort Satu 'Electropopcrazy' Fox, I too feel it necessary to provide the world with pop fodder. Forget war and politics, these are the issues that matter.

This week Ive been mostly buying:

James Morrison:
Doing my bit to help Morry get to the top of the album charts I bought his debut album. JM provides lukewarm soul in the guise of pop splendour. Too crap for music trendys and too cool for young teenagers, James appeals to the middle-class middles of the world. His sound is sufficiently pretty and the album escapes the pop trap of 'sameyness' (see Keane). Personally I think the album is top of the pops and I have already played it to death, much to the annoyance to my nearest and dearest. Pop Fate paging JaMo, please proceed past the James Blunts of the world and take a seat on the 'good first album, try not to be a one hit wonder' bench.
My Fav Track: No.9 'This Boy': Power ballad tastic.
If James Morrison was a drink he would be.....A glass of Pinot Grigio. More expensive than your standard Chardonnay but still on offer for 3 quid at Tesco.

The Kooks:
When the Kooks supported Chihiro way back when, I spent my time in the bar listening to angsty girls with good hair. When the Kooks went to the after-party, which I attended, I spent the time looking down my nose at the hat wearing coke fiends. Therefore, considering my close relationship and history with the band I decided to buy their album. I really enjoyed their singles, which have serious re-play value. The rest of the album is alright, a mixed bag of rockypop which is far superior to the likes of Razorlight. If any band were to look most like their sound it would be the Kooks. Good solid album, but I still dont regret listening to the 'good hair girls' that fateful night.
My Fav Track: No.1 'Seaside': a quick little diddy which reminds me of Brighton.
If The Kooks were a drink they would be....A JD and Coke. Sweet and popular to the masses; but its still whiskey.

Lily Allen:
Who doesn't love the lovely little pikey midgit I ask you! Exuding confidence, charm and a huge set of balls, Lily produces an unforgettable album. After careful scrutiny I realised that there is not one 'easy skip' track on the whole CD. Each track is sufficiently original, clever and catchy that I can listen to the album in one sitting again and again. I find myself singing along while marvelling the lyrics, all the time laughing at Lily's witty raporte. A classic and crazy album, as unique and fabulous as the lady herself.
My Fav Track: No.8 'Littlest Things': bitter, sweet.
If Lily Allen was a drink she would be....A Vodka Redbull: Oh so bad, but oh so good!

Paulo Nutini:
A good first attempt by a young strapping lad but certainly the least favourite out of my 'this week ive been mostly buying'. There are a few really good tracks on the album but they are few and far between. In substance, the lyrics are immature, but they make up for it in sincerity. Paulo's youth shines through and he is attempting to write the album of a 20something at the age of 18. Paulo is bitter and slightly arrogant but his music holds a certain originality that could be his saving grace in the long run. I expect that Paulo will have a long career, but I am reserving judgment until album numero two.
My Fav Track: No.1 'Jenny Don't Be Hasty': An angry 'Is it cus im only 18?' nugget.
If Paulo Nutini was a drink he would be....A Budweiser: I look like an alcopop, I taste like an alcopop, I appeal to drinkers of alcopops, but Im a beer mate!

Now walk the earth friends; re-invigorated with popinion.

I was walking through central london today on my way from Starbucks after reading the Guardian feeling rather chipper, so I stumble across one of those trailers which ask you to donate blood. Feeling suddenly altruistic and because my family has a strong reputation for donating blood (my mum actually has a silver medal in it, no joke!) I trundled up the little metal steps.
It was nine in the morning so I was greeted by a locked door, I peered in and nobody was present. Feeling cheated out of blood drainage I continued on my merry way.
I decided to try again soon and thought I would do some research prior to donating. The website had a section which questioned eligibility to give blood. A barage of medical questions about pregnancy, hepititus, blah blah came up and I trundled through the questions proving my healthy, youthful self. Then abruptly my private sexual history was scrutinised:
"Are you a man and have you had anal sex with another man (with or without protection)?"
-Yes (With protection)
"I am sorry you are unable to give blood". Rejection, no more questions asked.
I understand that the risk of passing on infected blood is worthy of preventing. Apparently HIV is passed on easier through anal sex than vaginal sex, fair enough, caution necessary. However; last time I checked women could have anal sex too, and last time I checked HIV can still be passed through vaginal sex. And last time I checked the blood services screen the blood for such diseases prior to circulation. So unless facts have dramatically changed since the last time I checked I do believe my proxy rejection is unjustified.
Surely the question should read:
"Are you a man or a woman who has had unprotected or frequent protected anal sex?" To which I would respond with certainy:
-No. I would go on to give blood, not for the last time and perhaps help somebody. But my sexual orientation alone has deemed me unworthy and I am very upset.
If some sect or creed wishes to craft an argument that implies gay people are more promiscious, partial to unprotected sex and are probably stricken with a variety of sexually transmitted diseases then I would like to introduce them to a mirror.
I won't be giving blood, though I want to dearly. Even if I stomrmed in with a certificate proving I am free from all diseases and afflications I am afraid it wouldnt be good enough simply because I am a man, who likes another man and happens to have sex the only way I can with said man using all forms of protection and care.
Perhaps the finely tuned screening process is in fact a generalised and offensive farce, rather than a process designed to help others?

For someone who does not like football, this is awfully stressful. I am watching the quarter final match and its hurting me. I know nothing about football but have somehow developed a PHD during the game, feeling qualified to criticise etc. Still do not know the offside rule though.
Its ten minutes into extra time and I feel quite ill to be honest. Let it be over already. If this goes to penalties I may just collapse. If we lose I will be very sad, but at least it would put an end to all this stress.
The Jury is out, verdict pending...

(ps a whole post about football, Tom be proud!)

Ok first off, I had a pedicure a month ago which looked and felt amazing up until now. All the hard skin has come back due to flip flop wearing, my nails had to be cut badly by myself and consequently hurt and the nail varnish is chipped so it looks like I have some bizarre foot infection.
That is all in the foot related news, I plan to go to a spa soon for many different treatments.

Second, I got a job for Norwich, which takes the heat off earning a fortune this summer. It pays well, I do little and its great for my CV. For more information on my job google LexisNexis Student Associate.

Third, I have spent most of the day eating crap and sitting on my sofa beginning training contract applications. I do not embelish when its a harder job than being Gary Glitter's PR man. It takes about 3 hours to put in the innane details on the online forms; such as education, grades etc etc. Then there are the endless and innane questions such as 'why do you want to be a commercial lawyer?' or 'Describe how you made the best of working in a team?' or 'If you were to describe yourself as an animal what would it be?' Not only do I have to answer the damn thing but I have to do it 300 words in a concise and clever fashion. I have 44 to do by July 31st: I may just die.

Fourth, Im excited about Big Brother this eve, fingers are crossed for fit housemates who I can oogle. I also plan to drink a bottle of wine in a Bree Van De Kamp kind of way and eat some more crap. The bottle is chilling and my Friday evening looks like its about to get better.

After a brief discussion about my lime green "vomit inducing" livejournal page, I have decided an overhaul was desperately needed.
And TaDa! My space is now 'zen'ed out, with calm, serene colours. Thoughful background. And userpic potrait taken by successful artist Saven Chadha entitled 'Peejface'.
A great improvement methinks.

I am so so angry!
The first gay foster parents have been arrested for abusing their foster children.
Gay people get enough of a bad rap without idiots like these providing people with chilling evidence which legitimises fear and hatred.
My very own housemate who is educated and lovely and not at all homophobic has issues with gay adoption / foster parents. Surely this selfish and disgusting act has set the plight of gay parents back decades.

This quote is widely used in all the tabloids:
“You saw him as the ideal victim. You are presented as a couple but this is not about homosexuality, it is about abuse of trust.”
Somehow I dont see the average Sun and Mail reader thinking similar.

PS
I am shocked and sickened by the attack on the 2 guys in Woolich. The completely defenseless guy who was stabbed and killed was doing nothing but waiting for a ride. The setting of the video is all too familiar and I am sure I have been in a similar position in Norwich or Surrey somewhere. It makes you wonder how safe we really are. I emplore all of you, if you are ever anywhere late at night without a lift do not hesitate to ring me and I can pick you up.
Here is the said CCTV footage:
http://exodus.interoutemediaservices.com/?id=91055327-d9d9-4c5f-b08e-c9aa0e8f1ff4&delivery=stream

Today is Thursday the 1st of June (Gay Pride Month, by the way, how appropriate it lies in tandem with my birthday month).
I leave the Sunny shores of America on Monday the 5th of June. This leaves me with a bittersweet sensation.
Though my first term was quasi-traumatic and only averagely fun this term has been amazing. I have managed to travel to a myriad of fantastic destinations and have unearthed all the potential fun to be had in Louisville.
This year has made me appreciate things I may have taken for granted in England and has been a throughly cathartic experience. I have fallen in love with New York, made new and exciting friends, picked up only a minor twang in my accent, seen everywhere worth seeing in America, had a Crossroads-esque roadtrip, eaten too much fried chicken, found my legal passion and have been proved more than proficient therein, entered a gay community for the first time, taken more flights and been to more airports than humanly sensible, got a new computer and had it die twice, found yoga and pilates, given up smoking, stopped eating my routine food, enjoyed southern hospitality, lived in a dorm run by a hotel and realised never again do I want to do live in halls, been on hold on the phone accumulatevly for about 5 months, become a Sudoku master, got a tan, lost a tan, and that was just in the first week.
I am now looking forward to reunions with my nearest and dearests, my car, mccoys crisps, surrey in summer, norwich, english accents, and the rest of my life starting now.

You know its time to go home when Big Brother starts and I was completely oblivious.
Even though I pretend to be cool sometimes the truth is that I love Big Brother and have watched it religiously for the past ever summers. So bad was my addiction was that when I was in Canada travelling for over a month I got my mother to record every episode.
The best thing about the show is when they enter the house, and I get to see who is fit and who is 'crazy'. And I have missed it!! Worse, however, is that I got my pop culture information from Josh's livejournal post - not that josh isn't the messiah of pop culture but that usually I am on top of such things, and have so failed myself.
When I return on the 6th of June (9:00am if any of you are interested) I plan to go on pop culture boot camp before I can show my face in Norwich. A hefty pile of Heat magazines, a day infront of MTV Hits and The Box followed by a box of wine and Channel 4 television.
Enough of being American, my inner Brit need return.

Ill make this quick as Im being rushed off the computer.
I am in Malibu,
It is sunny,
I like it a lot,
Im going to Hollywood tomorrow,
I have been eating too much,
Im rocking white shorts and white shirts,
Im coming home soon,
Im watching Capote and am not terribly impressed.

So it is Saturday night, and I am not out partying like a crazy biatch. Instead I am sitting post-bed routine ready to snuggle with my trashy Dan Brown novel.
Why such pathetic weekend exploits, one word; exams. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday play host to three different equally hard, equally long and equally frustrating law exams. I hope to get through, head above the water, but it is touch and go. Motivating myself to revise has become a tedious and well known ritual. I watch TV and eat so much crap without getting anything done.
I have two exam revision symptons:
1) Spots, lots of spots.
2) Insatiable appetite, no amount of food quells the monster in my stomach.
(And not making an appearance this year are 3 well known friends, namingly: Chain Smoking, Nose Bleeds and Picking at Eyebrows, so thank heaven for small mercys).
I have one Sunday left before they begin and I am not hopeful as to how much progress I will make. Ultimately these results will not effect my degree, but they still count and I need to pass.
I have to keep reminding myself I have completed one unit and got the highest grade I could have got, and also I am recommended to be published (currently submitted article to a few scholarly journals). It would be great to be published, I can have an academic hat and no lay person could question my Trademark Law knowledge. But this is pending, and in the mean time I have to worry about earthly matters like academic assessments.
Bring on the massage, haircut and colour I have scheduled for Friday.

It may seem to some that I have fallen off the edge of the world recently, for others the difference to usual may not be apparent.
Anyway the reason for this is that my computer has died. I advise everybody to run away from any HP product they may see as I have had my laptop since November and this is the second major fuck up. The technical support staff are awful and not even on the same continent as I, suffice to say the language barrier is huge. The whole episode has driven me to such heights of tedium I have nearly applied my own repair techniques with a hammer.
Basically it is being sent away (far far away hopefully to the God of Computers) to be repaired though I am very sceptical about it working again. They have said they will replace it if it fucks up once more and I am holding them to it. I have never experienced anything like it and thank god my data is backed up!
So I am fairly incommunicado for a while, but please continue to remember me and spread the word that I am safe and well.
And just to add salt to those lovely injuries, my exams begin soon and I have a piece of c/w to be in on Sunday.

Ok, so I admit it, Ive been neglecting you somewhat.
Gone are the hazy days of my youth when I had copious amounts of time to update you thrice a day. This American lark has been keeping me busy.
If Im not sauntering off to San Fran and Vegas (mass email to arrive in your inboxes v soon home friends) I have been doing work, organising a 21st birthday for Jess and generally having a life.

So Ill get straight to the point LJ, boys suck. I boil it down to being too intimidatingly hot. And I shall hear nothing to the contrary...

In reality, I have been hinted that a reason for my singledom may be my sheer lack of aloofnessnessness and presence of an overy chatty persona.
Apparently the silent-moody type is in, and I didnt get the memo. I keep forgetting to be sultry and instead spout random dribble out of my mouth. In fact, a couple of days ago I was on the phone to a boy and I realised after I hung up, I was not having a conversation - it was a monologue. I happily talked away to myself, probably answering my own questions. There really was no need for him to be there, which is always a bad sign if you are trying to spark a dialogue. Anyway, short of giving myself a lobotomy I shall endeavour to be cool, calm and collected in the future.
I tested said tactic earlier with a harmless friend on the phone, resulting in...the awkward silence. The dreaded thing lingered without prejudice and jarred the rest of the conversation. I later apologised for the silence, even though the thing doesn't belong to me. I tried again later with a smidge more success, but ultimately I end up filling the space with the white noise created by my mouth.

So, in conclusion, here is hoping that the lively, vivacious personalities comes back in fashion without delay.

Im jumping on the bandwagon,
Now I know you have to do everyones which is long, but go on spoil me:

http://kevan.org/johari?name=ptothej

On the 4th of Jan this year Satu, Myself, Amna, Tom and Josham all posted 5 New Years resolutions and the likelyhood of success.
A monthly review seems appropriate methinks. Those who have succeeded well done, those who have not, you have a month to mend the error of your ways.

A reminder of said resolutions:

SATU:
1) To stop using the word "retard" because it's pretty much the last genuinely offensive word in my vocab. Likelihood: 9/10
2) To dress more smartly. Likelihood: 5/10
3) To stop being a young fogey and get out more. Likelihood: 6/10
4) To eat proper meals and take care of myself more. Likelihood: 6/10
5) To be less judgemental. Likelihood: 2/10

PJ:
1) Stop Smoking - success likelyhood: 9.9/10
2) Stop eating bacon and diet coke every morning - success likelyhood: 6/10
3) Eat more healthy food - success likelyhood: America so 5/10.
4) Go to the gym - success likelyhood: 7/10
5) Have good sex - success likelyhood: 2/10

AMNA:
1)Eat more healthily - more fruit ought to do it
2)Try not to leave everything to the last minute
3)Moan less about work
4)Be nice to Tom and my family
5)Bake more cakes

JOSHAN:
1) Be/Eat more healthy, exercise. (May include taking up martial arts again). Likelyhood: 5/10
2) Quit smoking somepoint this year. Likelyhood: 5/10
3) Make time to construct website for music. Likelyhood: 7/10
4) Figure out what I will do with my life after uni. Likelyhood: 6/10.
5) Try and have sex. Likelyhood: -1/10.

TOM:
1) Become more motivated with my work and develop a portfolio I am happy with. Likelihood: 9/10
2) Learn to play the guitar. Likelihood: 4/10
3) Learn to drive. Likelihood: 6/10
4) Waste less time and money and be more productive. Likelihood: 8/10
5) Eat more healthily and start swimming again. Likelihood: 6/10



So I will start the ball rolling:
PJ:
1) Success!!! Stopped since middle December
2) Success!!! No bacon, diet coke since beginning of Jan or combo thereof.
3) Success: vitamin pills, lots of water, fruit and veg.
4) Success!!! Yoga three times a week, pilates once, cardio-combo once, jazzercise once.
5) FAILURE!!! Absolutely no sex, let alone good, in fact not even kissed anyone. Bad form PJ!


Overall: 1-4 were means to the 5 end, so overall good but no cigar.

Last night I went to a production of the Vagina Monologues.
The venue was a lovely Playhouse which is right across the street, and I never know it existed. So weekly theatre trips, methinks. Ive gone off going out and drinking so I have to substitute it with something.
Anyway, the cast included rising stars and sinking failures. They really should not force somebody to do a long monologue about rape if they cannot act.
I found the content wonderful. Flitting from the hilarious to the thought-provoking. My favourite was the 'Angry Vagina' monolgue which was aided by speaker-phones. I thouroughly enjoyed it and would recommend the short one hour play to any man, woman but not child.
Despite being in Kentucky the audience was having a wail of a time. There was the occassional nay-sayer. The lady next to me was part of what looked like a old-folks-home day out. She could not hear much, and when she did she did not seem unamused. When somebody does not clap you wonder if they have a soul, or just poor manners. There was also an incapability for the audience at large to turn off their mobile phones, despite explicit orders to the contrary. At least two phones wentt off and one lady had the cheek to pick up and talk while strolling out the theatre.
Luckily, these aspects did not take away from the message or catharsis provided by the play.
We walked the 20 second stroll back to our dorm and baked cookies and celebrated vaginas by playing the Sex and The City Trivia Game with the show on in the background.

After a peaceful and eventless sleep I woke slightly later than I had planned at just after 11am.
After a hot water with lemon (my newly sworn in morning beverage since I read cold water in the morning shocks your metabolism, and nobody wants a scared metabolism) I checked my emails and dozily pottered around the internet.

Today was unlike many in the respect that I had errands to attend to. Choosing an outfit for the day was my first hurdle.
The errand I had to run was to go to the Social Security Office downtown and re-apply for my social security card. The card was meant to arrive in August and I had been putting off this necessary and important task since then. Go get downtown, however, I had to ride the bus. Now, even despite my bus-riding-alone dislike, riding the bus in America is something quite different. Since even the poorest people in Kentucky have cars and nobody entertains the notion that public transport can be a quicker, cheaper and environmentally sound alternative the bus patrons tend to be an odd breed. Abandoning any pretence of PCness, the bus is full of tramps, crazys and 'gansta's'. This does not sound too amazingly different to Norwich buses (replace ganstas with pikeys), and it's true I would easily fit into the middle category, but as will be made apparent later my prescence as a white minority can cause problems.

So, I wanted to dress smartly for the government office but not flambointly to attract unwanted attention or appear as an easy, muggable target. I settled for smart jeans, a normal grey jumper and tweed Vans.

The redeeming feature of the buses in Louisville is the frequency of the service. The bus stop is right outside my Halls and it came bang on time. The ride itself was harmless and I felt bad for any judgement I had made on previous trips. A short walk later I was in the waiting room of the Social Security Office with a bunch of hicks, clutching my ticket saying I was E496. I sat on my bum for over an hour and eavesdropped into multiple conversations about how these common folk hated George Bush. I may be naive in thining the white population of Kentucky would be fraught Bushers. This seems far from the truth. I begged and pleaded and eventually recieved my social security number which meant I could keep getting paid by the Library and recieve my tax rebate.

Leaving the Government centre I had a skip in my step not only because I secured something which has been worrying me for a while, but also for getting downtown by bus on my own successfully. I celebrated with a breakfast at Quinzo's, meatball mararana on wheatbread. With take out sandwich in hand, I waited by the bustop and heard the beginning of a race debate which was to follow me onto the bus.

I sat down and heard this man behind me saying "There are whites you like, and whites you put up with". I felt his stare on my back, and I couldnt help but realise I was the only 'white' there. I felt secure of my safety, in fact, I felt safer. There was something strangely interesting about being discriminated because of my race. I pondered to myself the implications of this event in my life and got of the bus feeling, for some bizarre reason, empowered - why I cannot understand or explain. The bus proved to be a quick and reliable service which questions racial standing in society and is the forum of public debates.

Nevertheless, I wont be riding the bus regularly, the snob in me prevails.