Randomness Rules in my Roost

I am feeling much better. I'm not sure what provoked the change. I thought I was moving soon on Friday after Dad mentioned it on Tues as we rushed into IKEA at half 9. The place was still chaotic, but we parked in the taxi section anyway and barged through the main exit where all the gear was (if any officer stopped Dad he'd pretend to be from Africa and couldn't speak english - it's worked before!) All I wanted to do was watch the good ol' O.C and I still haven't had a chance yet, but never mind...randomness rules down here.

Maybe its because its July and we've had heatwave weather and thunderstorms, but everything is a little weird. Then again, being at RUTC means that randomness rules, and with only a week to go before we can sleep in until 1pm, just like the good old days, things will be a bit manic. The new student union is strapped for cash, but we've managed to hook us up with a drama show. I think I've been on about it all before, but now I have the job of writng some serious scripts - can't wait. I can purge everything in there perhaps.

Oh! And one last bit of news. In English, we were annotating blogs. From blogspot. We did some posts from Bagdad Burning. The teacher started going on how it was a new form of diary writing and how up to date it was and how this was important in terms of global communication. We had to talk about lexical choices (style and vocabulary) and syntax shit. It was really weird. And people knew nothing about it. They couldn't understand why you would make such private thoughts public. Obviously, no one except my closest friends know about my blog, so I pretended to be a big fan. They all thought I was weird, as I started recommended everybody. I don't care. Dads going on about how if this doesn't I could be completely homeless. Lesson #1 on how to stay positive for the future: Somewhere there's a big wide door waiting for you to come home.

Anyway, there's been mysterious drum kits in the foyer, people wondering round college in tudor-style clothes and strangest of all, on Tues while me and some lovely clever friends of mine lounged on the grass some cute ginger lass in a black silk negligee and a mini-black cardigan strode onto the green and told everyone to be quiet. Then a teacher in a sweeping black dress came up with a camera and started filming as the ginger girl in the negligee began to recite Ancient Greek dialogue. Of course.

Also, on the way home, I was immersed into Haruki Murakami. I am addicted to him, and I always have my book - The Wind Up Bird Chronicle - just in case someone else knows who I'm talking about. I bought some CDs in the HMV sale - Sex Pistols and Doves for a fiver, and the first Libertines album in six quid. Then I bought three books - two of Sarah Waters and one of this new asian one.

Oh, I went to my gay group tonight. I haven't had such a laugh for months, I'm serious. We're making a mini film with tranvestites, afro wigs and 60s blond wigs, gorgeous Jan dressed as a psychic (she's so fit, but I don't fancy her...hmmph). There were two new people - 14 years old! Oh, I only thought I was bisexual. I didn't even think of getting together with anyone. Jess has already had two and she's recovering from anorexia. She actually reminds me a lot of Alice, a good friend of mine and ex-girlfriend - going to a girls school and being raised Catholic. There's been so many jokes
("I want you hot inside me"
"Well, I'd..er, have to get some lube then"
"Don't worry I'm loose"
"Like a bucket loose?"
"Like Oxford Street") - online gay sex talk, of course.

I am dying with laughter, and Jess is really nice and I'm eating less, not so much. I'm in a fabby mood. I even got to read three chapters of Wind Up Bird on the bus. I'd be glad to not use those anymore. But I'll miss knowing the area, and having an Aunty round the corner who can be useful when you're short of all sorts of supplies etc. I'll only be in Feltham for a year, then I'm off really to Uni. Sussex or Manchester, methinks. And gosh, I got a thingy - erm...a er...personal statement! to write. For tomorrow. Bugger...

Night.