Day 1

Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I think it's nice to open with a cliché. Start as you mean to go on. Oops, another one! Today is the start though. I handed my dissertation in at about 3 p.m. after meticulously checking the page numbers, making sure all 74 pages were there, in order, the right way up, blah blah blah. Then after queuing at the copy shop for ages, and waiting half an hour for it to be heat bound, I handed it in. The past 3 months of tears and sweat and even more tears, the thousands of times I visited FaceBook a day, the hundreds of chocolate bars and bottles of pear cider, the many episodes of Ab Fab, the cups of tea, the scones, the pointless trips to the bathroom, the dancing in my chair to the Hairspray soundtrack, the work, the long days full of work, all this is over. Today. Well, maybe only the work is over today. I'm sure I will do the other things again! But they aren't fun unless you're doing them in order to avoid working.

So, as the prospect of moving home looms over the horizon, I am sitting at my desk, grooving to Red Hot Chili Peppers, with my open suitcase on my bed, its gaping mouth ready to devour my clothes and shoes and books and other important items, yet here I am still sitting at my desk with my clothes in the wardrobe, shoes on the floor and books on the shelf. I have drunk one bottle of cider tonight, eaten half a tub of Ben and Jerry's Bohemian Raspberry in the hope that I could inject some oomph into my body, but nope. As usual, it didn't work. I keep looking at the junk on my floor, hoping that I could be Matilda, just for tonight, and make things move by pointing at them and concentrating really hard. Unfortunately it doesn't work, and I just look like I am constipated and have arthritis.

I have noticed recently that I use the word 'just' far too often. The first step is admitting that I have a problem. I haven't read the next self-help leaflet, so they will just have to remain until I find out what to do next.

SGR Radio magically comes out of my P.C. speakers, so while RHCP plays on WinAmp, there is a distant melody of adverts for local second hand car salesmen and free delivery on products that you don't want, but only for this weekend they are half price, that's right, half price, sale ends Sunday.

I started a blog because of my dissertation. I can now say 'dissertation.' For many weeks it was referred to as 'the thing of which we do not speak' but now that I've finished, I can actually use its name. So, it made me realise just how interesting real life can be. Yes, it can be tragic, but under the surface there is some fascinating stuff. I am not saying that my real life will be interesting, but I want to see if I can make it so.

My German flatmate has been wanting me to tell him a joke every day. Yesterday I couldn't think of one, so my English flatmate intervened.

What's worse than Michael Jackson babysitting your kids?
The McCanns taking them on holiday.

Last night the German, the English and the French got drunk in the kitchen and filled it with condoms. I don't know if I should find this funny. It is childish, but at the same time I do refuse to be a 'grown up' so I don't know where to sit. Maybe I will stay sitting at my desk, avoiding the condoms, avoiding my packing and avoiding a clever way of ending this.