Maybe it's called procrastination.  The stalling of what I'm meant to do.  Although when I slipped into bed last night and woke this morning - I just felt I was lazy.  That's not to say I have been lazy - only I've not been as active. 

What I propose to do today

• Photoshop a rough plan for a couple, or even at least one commercial for the presentation (it's in two weeks)
• Get through four academic readings for Audiences and Fandom essay (again in two weeks)
• Thirty pages of Tales of the City
• Try and hook up another story for Christina Jerome - there's one sitting there for my portfolio and there's a beginning and an end.  No middle.

So my coffee fix is being catered to.  One friend of mine said she's managed to put off food by having cups of tea or coffee.  I'd think that dangerous if I wasn't so poor myself now.  There's method in its madness.

The most logical way of doing work for me might actually be to stay in one's pajamas for the entire day.  That way I'll get bored eventually - say 4 o' clock and start working on projects.  There's too much work and at the moment, the RIGHT amount of time to do it in.  It means I have to use it correctly. 

The Audiences and Fandom essay I'm looking forward to.  We have choose one of the three Paradigms concerning Audience Research - Behavourial, Incorporate/Resistance and Spectacle/Performance.  We've been told that a lot of students chose Incorporate/Resistance because it's a safety net.  I'm thinking I'm diving into Spectacle/Performance - relating to anime fans.  Already have a number of nifty books from the library on anime - one I'm looking forward to - From Impressionism to Anime by Susan J. Napier.  There is another book she's written - yet someone's already nabbed that.  Not to mention Anime Intersections by Dani Cavallaro.  Tomorrow night, I'm not sure if it'll do me any good - but I'm heading once again to De Montfort University's Anime club - to get proper primary research on it.  By tomorrow night I'll feel all involved.

It meant that last night I was looking through Japanese culture.  Might have to try to nab The Little Norse Prince from the library.  Maybe to consult Studio Ghibli films too.  Someone I've been in contact with doesn't realise he's pushed me to investigate J POP.  Can't understand a word of it - but it's fun.  There are many Rammstein fans who don't understand German. 

Dear me, I seriously have a bit to carry on with.  It's as if I may end up missing Valentine's Day.

The latter note had me thinking.  And researching.  My conclusion.  That this Valentine's Day I should realise - my relationship status isn't my identity.  I'm holding onto my identity, because even the word 'identity' brings delightful shivers down me.  It's one thing I can't improve with money - yet I'll always have.  Maybe I'm talking more about my personality.  But recently I was speaking to someone who mentioned their relationship status several times.  In my head I thought, 'Yeah - that's great.  But does that instantly make you a more complex and interesting person?'  

I'm celebrating my single status - because I'm celebrating myself.  Not on Valentine's Day - but nearly every day.  

And if all else fails I can pop to see Valentine's Day by myself.  
'You think Taylor Lautner will get his shirt off?' I asked.
'Of course,' said Nikki.  'You can't imagine hiring him to be in a film and NOT get him to take it off.'
Her laugh then was directed at Hollywood's cynicism.  Not the girlish glee that Taylor's abbs have provoked in his last film.

Just after three o' clock and I've not eaten anything.  The entire student feel is grabbing ahold.  Money is desperately low.  I haven't a clue how to turn this one into a joke.  I dare not ask my parents.  They're the type to hand my siblings umbrellas on sunny days.  Although when an absolute storm occurs - I must find my own shelter.  Good in one sense - that I can stand on my own two feet.  Annoying in the other that I will face unsettled times.

There's always cheesy pasta, frozen vegetables, noodles and tinned soup to live off.  I'll be all right.  Claire Trevor taught me to have chopped tomatoes on toast.  No need for butter.  One of the recommended five a day fruit and vegetables.  Brilliant.

Managed to get my essay for Advertising and Consumption back.  48%.  It was the most horrible essay I've done.  I'm only praying and hoping that I can boost up my marks on all other essays/assessments.  I work hard and I know I can do it.  Only when a mark like that returns, it's difficult to get into that train of thought.  I remember I've been told that you're not really supposed to feel as confident about work this year, compared to the previous two.  The fact that it's more challenging.  I've not been defeated yet.  I'll be grand on the next one.

The positive outlook on it is, I haven't totally FAILED it.  If that was the case, I'd be very upset.  But looking at the facts - it was the most horrible essay I'd ever done at University.  You need forty per cent to pass.  I achieved forty eight.  That's a pass.  It's above a pass.  All right - so it's not first degree material.  It's a mark I'm not used to getting.  But there's nothing I can do about it now.  And all I can think of is to focus more on the next assessments coming up. 

For example, today I'll write 250 words for my Professional Writing Skills.  Not to mention another short story for my dissertation - considering one of the others will be slammed and shot out off a canon.  That's the lecturer's coffee breaks for you.

There are chocolate brownies beside me.  They were on offer and it's the weekend.  The coffee I'm drinking recommended I have Chocolate Brownies with them.  The next coffee I'm trying insists I have Blueberry muffins with them.

When at Mosh last night I refused to have a Pepsi until Midnight appeared.  Again I risked it.  I had Southern Comfort in it.  My absence from alcohol has been good for me.  I never went nuts and drunk like a fish.  As I've mentioned before, one drink could send my head spiralling into thoughts I do not need nor want.  The past two nights I've had a drink.  I've also been with Hester.  Maybe that could link.  It's an unwritten rule that you can't be sad when around Hester.  I can't afford it anyway.

On the way Hannah and I were quoting Johnny English.  I saw that at the cinema.  There was a racist joke involved.  Not told by me.  I haven't got the balls to repeat it on this.  I was sixteen years old.  Most things made me want to laugh or jerk off.  Do I want to tread that time again?

Weekend in bed would do me good.  With little tasks done here and there.  The past two nights have been immense.  Last night was a lot more low key.  Was surprised when a group of girls recognised me from the Lostprophets' concert. 

Mosh has an interesting vibe.  The bottom floor on a Friday night is Heavy Metal.  Having Claire Trevor dance to Down With The Sickness is the height of happiness.  The actual dance floor is small and sectioned off.  Early in the night, it's interesting.  Only a handful of heavy metallers are there, bouncing around, showing wonderful energetic and snappy dance moves that wouldn't, but should be seen on the West End.  And in the dancing area was the most adorable girl.  She looked to be about twelve years old.  In her alternative outfit, beautifully long straightened hair - it was as if she was a little sister to someone.  I have this picture of Jonny (my brother) and I at the side, Pepsi and JD in our hands and saying, 'She's done us proud that one.'  Wonder if Natalie (my sister) would oblige in the ways of rock 'n' roll?

I seriously need to finish Tales of the City this weekend.  That and a Studio Ghibli film.  And avoid the Valentine's Day Merchandise.  It's everywhere.  Maybe a full bottle of Night Nurse will help me see through next Sunday?

We didn't exactly get lost.  The path to De Montfort Hall is rarely tread for us.  It's the territory of University of Leicester.  Do we have call to venture around there?  With the crew we were with last night - I'd love to.  This is where I hate being so busy.  However, it is my third year.

'Is there a left turn?' asked Hester.
'I'm...I don't know,' I said.
'There is.' 
'Maybe.'
Her sister Hannah and sister's friend Gemme were both silent as we made our way to a place where a bridge was.  We were under it.
'Well it's a Lostprophets' concert.  Why don't we just follow the emos,' I said.
Soon enough a clue came before us.  A small board citing De Montfort Hall parking.  Excellent.  We're on our way.

After Hexes and Kids in Glass Houses, I went to get a drink.  Surprisingly an alcoholic drink.  A Blueberry cider.  Risky.  With my record of one alcoholic drink acting like the potion of Despair.  When ordering there were a couple of Belfast accents beside me.  I got talking to them just a bit.  Then they tried the mysterious bright blue drink in front of me.

Lostprophets' were immense.  Although I hadn't listened to their most recent album that much.  Only once to be fair.  Still enjoyable.  Ian Watkins is one man who's ageing tremendously well.  Felt he should have been wearing something other than black.  He got very sweaty.  I'm not complaining - I'm only thinking of him after all.  He does have a different rock persona to what I visualise I would have.  Would you look at that?  I dream of being a rock star at times.  I could get song writing.  I could wear glistzy costumes.  I can't sing for toffee.

So there was me, Hester and Paul from Leicester University in a row, rocking in fourteen/fifteen year old teenage fashion.  Lights from both the stage and cameras blinking as much as they could.  Hester nearly trying to punch the frizzy haired freak in front of us. 

Now that Everyday Combat was the penultimate song, I shouted lyrics at them - knowing full well they'd hear everyone one of them.  But there that night couldn't be ruined.  Not even when a certain enemy of mine passed me on the way home.  

Now must rush to the Print Centre.  They claim one of my PDF's aren't printing.  And that's got me dreadfully concerned. 

Though I'm not worrying.  The endorphins from last night are still working.

The annoyance.  The blasted right lens in my glasses shows a teeny tiny scratch that's visible when held up to the light.  Obviously the entire world will notice and that's sent my insecurities spiralling downward.  So I've ordered new glasses.  Not badly priced.  Being ridiculously poor is a fucking nuisance.  These days won't be forever.  Just the student ones.  I got a second pair free as well.  Blue ones I chose.  They look pretty.

Who decided it'd be a good idea for students to be poor?

Just a Minute is playing on in the background.  Can't stand Nicholas Parson's thinking he's too charming.  For I know he's meant to be a bastard at times.  Paul Merton however, is invited to dinner any day he wishes.

There's the Lostprophets' concert tonight.  Genevieve and I were concerned if there would be a cloak room.  The concert is aimed at fourteen, fifteen year olds.  They don't were coats.  The old adults there don't want to look too serious wearing coats all through the night.  Genevieve might be all right - but I'll look like a villain on a night off.

Publication work is in the Print Centre.  That's a relief.  Now we'll see the end result soon enough.  Fingers crossed.

So I attend a lecture.  On Cult Film.  They show the Director's Cut of The Wicker Man.  Christopher Lee is amazing - still creepy exercising a masterly power over his Island.  And the whole creepy persuaded pagan dickheads inhabiting the place.  And along with The Exorcist, one of the few horror films I love.

Lunch in a tall Witherspoons.  WIth Leicester University's folks.  Hester introduced me to a few friends of hers.  They'll be heading to Lostprophets' concert tomorrow night.  Something I should be looking forward to.  But I have this impression I'll be the oldest person there.  Like at Kill Hannah.   

They found that I had Joker type laugh.

Last night I had a dream about SEX.  I've been told dreams are repressed thoughts and desires.  Sure I know I'm repressed.  And if dreams are catering to them, I'm not complaining.

There has been a desire to buy lube ever since I got back into University this term.  Not use it.  Just buy it.  Just for the experience.  As if I can afford to spend money on lube.  Though I cheated.  I got it through the express self-service checkout.  And they never read my Boots' Advantage Card.  12p worth of points I didn't get.  You think I'm going to go back and hassle them for that much?

Laundry's being done now.  I need to fetch it.

Mundane - maybe.  Content - nicely.

Contemplating should I do my laundry right now.  It'll give me an excuse to stay up late and work on my publication work.  Hester's already proof read and I have done so around three hundred times.  I'll have to hand it into the Print Centre very soon.  Time's running out.  Although I'm nearly there.  The book cover is completed.  My only quam with it is that no one will particularly get it as a fantasy.  But I'm proud of it.

Claire and I photographed ourselves for it.  I say we look wonderfully hot.

There's been a lot of procrastination going on.  Although it's not been a waste.  Last night saw the first Creative Writing Society Event in my University.  Unhealthily I chose to play Hedwig and the Angry Inch.  When you know my past in depth, you'll know why it's unhealthy.

Then this evening Rainbow Claire insisted on buying me dinner.  So that I could write a review of a local pub.  And its food.  Nearly every town in the world has a bar/pub called The Globe.  Do you think there's always a rush for who can grab the name first?  This one had a small section where no light shone.  It would be pretty attractive if you dressed in a hooded black robe and had an interest in looking inconspicuous, but suspicious at the same time.  Maybe even liked hearing of distant starry worlds or the black market in occult goods.  Leicester has its share of strange people.

Rainbow Claire and I settled for a table beside a pretty window.  Where we saw rain drops hitting puddles.  And that's where my past started arising.  And this time - I was ready for it.  It's fallen on me that I must forget the bad things.  All the things I've done were what I thought was right.  It's true that so much has hurt me.  And those who got hurt in the same process, but managed to backstab me found themselves getting over it quicker than I did.  Why?  Because I'm far more complex than I realised.  And there's nothing wrong with that.  Where my emotions may prove a somewhat downfall me in some respects - I feel that they'll actually serve me pretty well in another. 

I may not have stood up for myself in the past.  I do now.  And I may not have confronted in the past, or tried to be vindictive.  But that's because I'm not a vindictive, hateful person.  I'm one of the good guys.  Always have been.  And usually bad stuff happens to the good guys.  It'll happen again no doubt.  But I know that with myself, I'm still the one guy who hasn't let me down.  No matter what has happened.

After the weird loneliness of the middle of last week, I think these procrastination acts have been better for my health.  Or maybe I don't feel the pressure of University work just yet.  I'll have.  The Publication has my attention the most.  Another late night session of editing should do it.  I'll have to get it in by Thursday at the latest. 

Not so much lonely now.  The busy schedule I have is keeping me preoccupied with other things.  And my friends still invite to me to 'do stuff'.  Which means I'm doing a lot.  And it's nice.  My reading has gone down substantially - but I always felt that I would have to drop the reading rate down sometimes.  Again - I've read Ulysses.

My Lostprophets ticket arrived today.  Am in relief.  I had faith.  Only the concert takes place on Thursday.  You can imagine my degree of concern.

So much to do.  Seriously not even the little amount of time to do it.

There was a cracking of the American Hard Gums today.  When I discovered Coraline had a nomination for Best Animated Film this year at the Academy Awards.  Up is also there.  But Up is also in the Best Picture Nominee's category.  That's a bit cheeky, giving it two chances.  Avatar also gets a nod.  I still don't think it's strong enough, plot/storyline, to be seen as a piece of brilliance.  Am I too much of a fuddy duddy?  I was just immensely fond of Coraline.

More writing I guess.  Once May arrives, the Creative Writing Students won't write anything for a full year.  They'll be exhausted.

Laundry can be done tomorrow night.  It's just I would like to wear sexy printed underwear at the Lostprophets' concert.  What would happen if Ian Watkins saw me with 'ordinary' boxers?  I'd die of a major swoon for him looking at me.  Then die again of embarrasment and my lack of funky underwear.  I have a number of those.  My favourite being the bright pink elastic band with cassettes all over.  Or is it the pair of bright blue ones with large white stars all over them?  Gosh - what is a guy to do?

'You're that winning lottery ticket no one ever found.'

Gosh.  This blog and I meet again. 

Honestly.  I've been down.  It sucks.  The past few days I've faced loneliness and exhaustion. 

It's possible that I was too productive last weekend.  Meaning that when it came to the middle of the week, I became passive enough to not care.

Loneliness.  Well - unfairness might be nearer the mark.  This has been one of those weeks where I believe that no matter how much I do the right thing, the bad guys seem to be having a better time.  That was a feeling I battled with last year.  Not to mention in 2006.  It could be the onset of so much work for University.  During 'A' levels I had no time for anything else.  Even though my boss thought I had plenty of time for his business.  And at that time, 'He' was around, portraying this amazing lifestyle that came to him so easily. 

Often wonder if his character was in the position I was in - I don't think he would have survived it.

However, my work has to come first at the moment.  This is my final year and I don't want to screw it up. 

Last night I was lurking around the Pheonix Theatre.  CPulse was playing.  Although Simon's fantastic poetry didn't start until 8.40pm.  So I took at midnight stroll.  At 7.00pm.  Nice.  Seeing the town getting rather unsteadily at that point, I rather celebrated the notion in my own head that I didn't see it much later on.  Memories of my first year at University were striking.  One yearns for those mindless times again, where not much is expected and my time is truly MY time.

It turned aout into just over two hours of walking I completed yesterday.  It's due to that and a visit to CPulse that I think I was all right.  Sitting with the lecturers, giggling at how rude we can be.  Not to mention Coffee and Walnut cake.  With Apple + Blueberry juice.  Times can be good. 

There was no alcohol.  Despite Simon offering to buy me a drink.  And Damian.  And temptation knocking at it.  Knowing that alcohol can trigger thoughts and non-stop trains of thought, I think it best to stay clear.  Much like I say about certain guys. 

It's not all bad.  I've freed up some time for the weekend.  Amongst the seven million words I have to proff read.  Already I have a first draft of my dissertation work.  Although it's fragmented and disgusting and rude and not worth a button.  But very funny.

My plan.  Croissants and coffee.  A forty minute walk.  Printing and proof-reading.  Lostprophets back catalog.  Academic reading.  Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City.  A Very Long Engagement (I've still not watched it).

The negative thoughts running around.  My view of being the good guy wasn't getting me anywhere.  There was a comfort.  Probably the strangest comfort I've never had before.  The logic is there.  Only I've not managed to pick off the bits of craziness from it.  To a degree, I understand what's going on.  Maybe because 'he' didn't mean it.  Or didn't fully see the consequences.  Different to the Modern Dark Lord, who did mean to lead me on.  It still reflects that 'he', the first one I fell for, is somewhat dangerous.  If he's not careful about his charm and how he presents it.  The Modern Dark Lord however was simply out for himself and his ill-natured wants.  With that in mind - it makes it clearer.

I may still be in love with 'Him'.

'You're more than ok,' said Hester and she smiled.