I just realised that I am nearing entry number 100. This is despite the fact that I haven't had this diary for a full three months yet. That equals� well, way too much time spent in front of my computer. Obviously, this won't continue forever, coz as soon as my essays are done I shall be engaging in some actual human interaction again. Uh, I can't wait.

Unfortunately, the whole finishing essays issue is only getting more and more depressing. I've gotten my Creative Writing essay extended, so that isn't due until Monday the 28th, which is nice. I'm still not quite sure when I'm expected to hand in my Cultural Issues essay. It's supposed to be due in Friday the 25th, but that's definitely not happening. My Linguistics essay is due Monday the 21st and I will get that done in time. There's no choice, coz I didn't get an extension. I could've, but Chris and I agreed that I'd probably be better off getting it over with. And, more importantly, I've actually done work on it, so it's not implausible that I will be able to finish it by Monday. But of course Chris told me both Wednesday when I saw her and before Christmas that she's expecting me to get an A for it. That really isn't fair. I mean, I got all sweet, sweet As in Canada, coz it was easy-peasy compared to university in the UK, but I haven't had an A yet this year here� though the Creative Writing and Linguistic was only one point from an A the last time. We don't actually use the whole A+, A, A-, B+, B, B- etc. system. It's A, B, C, D and so forth, so I guess I shouldn't really complain that all I get is stupid Bs. It's just I got so spoiled and used to seeing them beautiful A+s and As in Canada that I can't help but miss them a little. Anyways, who cares about grades? And who cares that these three essays I have due will count a staggering 25% towards my final degree. Poo!

It's raining. It's been raining on/off all day. It's pathetic. It's supposed to be winter. I can't deal with this indecisive weather. I have enough doubt around me as it is.

At the New Year's Day dinner at the homeless shelter I had the great pleasure of pulling a cracker with Dawn. In the cracker was a toy and I was the lucky "winner". It's a red thimble sized plastic cup with a white plastic ball of similar size attached to a piece of string dangling from the bottom. The object is of course to get the ball in the cup by swinging or looping or whatever else one might do when one wants a ball in a cup. Okay, so I really have no idea how to explain this any better and seeing as I don't wanna be accused of being too detailed I'll just pretend everyone knows what I'm on about. But yeah, so anyways, I really kick ass. I'm not sure how, but the last couple of weeks I've become increasingly addicted to this little toy. I now master the skill of ball-cupping with frightening precision. This is what happens when you delete all games, including solitaire and napoleon from your computer in order not to be distracted from your work. There really is no escape - I will procrastinate and there's nothing I can do to hinder it.

Speaking of solitaire - what is it with people who have to interfere with you when you're playing solitaire? I mean, don't get me wrong here - I'm human - I too get the urge to help out, advice and point out missed cards etc. but I will also do whatever I can (including leaving the room) in order not to butt in. There's a reason why it's called solitaire, so mind your own fucking business, goddammit! Solitaire is NOT a team sport. It's not even a spectator's sport� in fact, it's not a sport at all, and if YOU help me, then I didn't win, no matter how well meaning and nice you thought you were being.

But yeah, so I don't actually do solitaires anymore� not for any angry reasons - just coz I deleted the games. I do have playing cards� porn ones, Asterix ones, famous people ones (deluxe millennium version featuring all the famous people who defined the last millennium - the set includes all of two women!) and some old vintage cards that I've had as long as I can remember.

Okay, I really didn't plan ever writing an entry on solitaires and/or my collection of cards. Oh well.

It's past two in the morning and I'm tired. I kinda wanna get stoned, but I think this whole not getting stoned until just before I go to sleep is having some side effects. I'm just really exhausted all the time. I don't understand this. I was never a sleeper. I'm wasting way to much time in my bed - well, let me just modify that statement - I'm spending way too much time alone in my bed. I obviously don't really think sleeping is wasting time, coz I love dreaming and I love sleeping. I just never needed more than 7 hours and when I have essays due or exams I normally cut down to 5-6 hours pr. night/day. However, lately - or basically since I was ill this Christmas - I've been sleeping an average of 9-10 hours pr night/day. I wonder if it's just habit or if it's related to something. Lots of things could cause tiredness. Weed never used to and I do only smoke once a day at the moment and not until I just before I go to sleep - but perhaps that's the problem. Vitamin deficiencies can cause fatigue as well, and so can illness - mental or otherwise. I don't know. It just bothers me, coz not only am I sleeping too much I'm also yawning all day and it takes me forever to get into awake mode after I've gotten out of bed. I'm not grumpy in the morning, but I always look like I should be.

Okay, so reading about other peoples sleeping-patterns is almost as interesting as listening to people talk about their dreams and looking at other people's vacation photos (especially when other people went to Ibiza and seemed to have a great fondness for particular human body parts - it only amuses you for so long).

Did I mention that I miss Canada? I really loved it over there. I really, really loved it over there. Unfortunate that I should have my little heart broken and go into self-destructive mode, but somehow that actually turned out to my "advantage". This time last year I was wallowing in self pity surpassed by none due to self inflicted heart trauma. I was drinking (going cold turkey on ol'maryjane ain't easy when you're suicidal), I wasn't eating quite as much as I needed, I had started cutting myself again and worst of all, I was keeping people up with my long and elaborate tales of my pathetic life and all my woes - okay, so this sounds a bit theatrical, and by golly, I think perhaps it was. But I was feeling quite shitty. Quite homesick, stressed, scared, insecure, lonely and foreign. All of that. And I kinda just sat in my room - and later on, I moved to the TV-lounge. Just sorta living in my pyjamas and watching all the films I'd been wanting to see for years, but hadn't coz I couldn't go to the cinema for whatever reason and didn't have a TV. And let me tell ya', Canadian students have a very large video selection. And, there are a lot of channels on TV. So, I watched The Wedding Story with Lindsey everyday, I watched home improvement shows and styling shows, just because I have a (never before admitted) fetish for those shows. I'm into home improvement. Okay, so I guess I'm digressing from my point slightly here. Notice how that happened as soon as I got stoned. Kepp your kids away from this sweetness - it's addictive as fuck� literally! But it's good that I'm writing coz it kinda helps me remember what my point was - though of course it also keeps me digressing. CANADA - yeah, Canadians are just really nice people. So fucking genuine and - I don't know - fascinating, perhaps? See, the one thing about Canada is that - shit - I forgot� and it was really good too. But, if it was that good then surely I would be able to remember it again if I think really hard about Canada.

Hmmm�

Hmm�

Hm�mmmm�.

Nope - I'm afraid it's gone. Well, but then perhaps I could go back to my story about the bloody ugly state I was in this time last year. Well, but in the middle of thinking nobody loved me and that - well - I was crazy, what can I say - I'm actually live-blushing right now for thinking about it. People must have thought I was a complete nutcase. I feel like that strange girl everyone knows. As in, the arch-typical strange girl with all these wierdass problems creating havoc and dismay everywhere she goes. Well, I guess someone has to be. I'm doing it for all of you. I'm doing it so you don't have to� So, suddenly I had an apparition. All around me, people were really nice, friendly, and helpful. Canada just really came through for me. Everyone was a positive surprise. If I hadn't been such a pathetic idiot I would have never realised what a magnificent person Pebbles is and how two such unlikely people ended up having so much in common - including a wicked sense of humour *Don't ev'n get me started - don't eeeeeven get me starrrrted!*, and where would I be today if Mary wasn't so good at kicking my butt on occasion?

It reminds me of the fact that had I not been a self pitying alcohol idiot in the Autumn of 1996 Mette and I would not have been friends. Okay, so she fiercely rejected all my attempts at befriending her for a veeeeeeeery long time, but I am patient and I pursue my future friends with great skill;) No, but really, it did take an incredible effort to win her over to the notion of friendship. I'm not saying she doesn't have any friends, I'm just saying she prefers not to. So, I guess in return for my perseverance, she has indulged and let me be her friend. At last count, I believe I was number one female confidante in her life, and the feeling is mutual, so that's fortunate. Hey, who's gonna be my next depression induced friend?

Pebbles (or Jenn) and Mary weren't the only awesome [-and I still say that with a Canadian accent fer sjure :p ] people I met over there� there were piles and piles of nice people. Aww� I wanna mention everyone now. I don't think I can though, and then perhaps it's better not to attempt. But yeah, I love them over there and I have never cried so hard in public as I did in the aeroplane as I took of from Halifax Airport in late April last year. Coming back here felt completely empty compared to Canada. And it kinda has been; though my summer was nice - very nice. I made all the money I needed doing a job I love and kick ass at and only had to do it for 6 weeks enabling me to spend a total of TWO MONTHS in Denmark doing jack-shit other than hang out with Mette (and her b/f Dennis of course), my mum, my nephew and - well, that's it. Oh, and I did go to Copenhagen to buy drugs under the pretence of visiting mostly my Paternal Step-grandmother, and some other of my father's family whom I hadn't seen for a good 5 years (they'd been pleading with me to come so they could update the family album - I'm 9 years old in the latest picture my grandmother had on her mantel). I suck at being a relative.

The revelation I mentioned yesterday was never revealed. I'll do it later. It has to do with my mum and her being nice.

Hey, it's not right for me to be so positive about my fellow human beings when I should really be wallowing in my crisis, stress, depression, feelings of inadequacy, insecurity and essays.

Oh well� I feel happy�

(In stark contrast to earlier when I heard the Danish Foreign minister make a complete ass out of himself and my native country [which I shall henceforth deny all connection to for sheer shame] on HardTalk on BBC. I am seriously considering applying for political asylum in the UK. What a joke. What a fucking joke my country is turning into. The worst is of course that the racial slurs the Foreign Minister engages in during the above interview and the law they are proposing is not more harsh or strict than the other EU countries. It doesn't make me less ashamed though. On the contrary, in fact! [Oh, and notice the accent - that's SUCH a typical Danish English accent. It's very square and much more US than British English. I don't speak like that. I speak a rather posh English and I wish I didn't, coz it sends all the wrong signals and makes people jump to all kinds of conclusions. It also makes it hard to say cunt.] But I still think it's kinda kewl that this distressfully ignorant individual is able to do a Larry King Live type interview in a foreign language. You wouldn't find the French Foreign Minister doing that. And, you wouldn't find the English Foreign Minister sit an interview in French either, I reckon. We're good like that in Denmark.)

Half past fucking three in the a.m. - I'm a moron. Now I'm gonna be too tired to masturbate!