goodwill.

" Why shouldn't I work for the N.S.A.? That's a tough one, but I'll take a shot. 

Say I'm working at N.S.A. Somebody puts a code on my desk, something nobody else can break. Maybe I take a shot at it and maybe I break it. And I'm real happy with myself, 'cause I did my job well. But maybe that code was the location of some rebel army in North Africa or the Middle East. 

Once they have that location, they bomb the village where the rebels were hiding and fifteen hundred people I never met, never had no problem with, get killed. Now the politicians are sayin', "Oh, send in the Marines to secure the area" 'cause they don't give a shit. It won't be their kid over there, gettin' shot. Just like it wasn't them when their number got called, 'cause they were pullin' a tour in the National Guard. It'll be some kid from Southie takin' shrapnel in the ass. 

And he comes back to find that the plant he used to work at got exported to the country he just got back from. And the guy who put the shrapnel in his ass got his old job, 'cause he'll work for fifteen cents a day and no bathroom breaks. Meanwhile, he realizes the only reason he was over there in the first place was so we could install a government that would sell us oil at a good price. And, of course, the oil companies used the skirmish over there to scare up domestic oil prices. A cute little ancillary benefit for them, but it ain't helping my buddy at two-fifty a gallon. And they're takin' their sweet time bringin' the oil back, of course, and maybe even took the liberty of hiring an alcoholic skipper who likes to drink martinis and fuckin' play slalom with the icebergs, and it ain't too long 'til he hits one, spills the oil and kills all the sea life in the North Atlantic.

 So now my buddy's out of work and he can't afford to drive, so he's got to walk to the fuckin' job interviews, which sucks 'cause the shrapnel in his ass is givin' him chronic hemorrhoids. And meanwhile he's starvin', 'cause every time he tries to get a bite to eat, the only blue plate special they're servin' is North Atlantic scrod with Quaker State. So what did I think? I'm holdin' out for somethin' better. I figure fuck it, while I'm at it why not just shoot my buddy, take his job, give it to his sworn enemy, hike up gas prices, bomb a village, club a baby seal, hit the hash pipe and join the National Guard? I could be elected president. "

So I watched a movie today.

nash.

I fancy the hip rock 'roll scene-ster.

I wanna be fucked and then rolled over: 'cos I'm an independent woman of the 21st century.

No time for nits, I want sex and abortuary.

I read Glamour and the Guardian.

I like flowers AND I'm hard-ian.

I take cocaine.

I don't give a fuck about her, I want your name.

I can get fucked like the best of men, like the best of men, like the worst of pain, inflicted on another young girl again.

Impressed by another guitar hero; he's top score and you're a zero - you're outta your league.

There aint no rubber on the tracks, it's gravel.

You fall hard, cut quick, and it's an STD, a cut knee.

You're a side of stage grasp, a laugh, an after-show party in a bath. 

Fucked and expected to be fucked, a gasp from an uninformed intruder,

The crowd go wild as things get ruder, 

They're already out of hand and there's no-on here to take your hand...

It's a cold shower and a scramble for a dirty pair of knickers, don't get yours mixed up with hers.

Now get out of bed.

Get up.

Get dressed.

Get out of bed.

Get up.

Get down,

And get undressed: cos that's what you do best.

Strip, strip, strip and shag. Fuck and get fucked and drag and be impressed by the better sex.

Take a piece of raw vegetable, and hold it to your breast and say that you stood for nothing.

You were just a hole that lacked passion.

Another undignified product of society.

(That girl should have been a mansion.)

(Do not read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.)

space.

I realised today that I appreciate things more when I give myself space to do so.

Why is reading a magazine during a precious 10 minute tea break so much more inspiring then when I'm just killing time?

I'm always making space for space.

rewards.

As I trundle through readings and essays, practical reports and lecture notes, the future seems bleak.

I absorb myself into the routine of work, and expect myself to meet standards I rarely ever do. Does this mean I am not trying hard enough, or that I am lazy?

Working my hardest at an assignment and at my entire career tends to absorb all of my energy. I rarely have enough energy or love or positive feeling left in me at the end of the day than do anything but watch rubbish television whilst I feel sorry for myself for not getting enough done.

I don't know how to change. I want to be happier. But in making more time for myself, I know my studies will suffer, and as a consequence any time gained is tinged with guilt. Is there any way I can work hard whilst being happy with what I have achieved at the end of each day? And when, time and time again, people older than me tell me how 'these are the best days of my life', how is it even possible to stay upbeat when, in other words: 'It's all uphill from here.'

Feeling run down, tired, guilty and worthless today. And made worse by the fact that I know, realistically, I am one of the lucky ones.

formalities.

Hello internet.

My New Years Resolutions included writing at least every other day, and also to be kinder to myself. Unfortunately I have already started to forget about writing, as so many other things seem to take priority. Along with this I forget about being kind to myself and instead find myself stuck in circles of stress and exhaustion...which isn't helped when I keep setting up so many hurdles for me to inevitably trip over. Like New Years Resolutions.

So here's to a new beginning. To sharing my ups and downs with an invisible audience. In the hope that this new channel for creativity can help me to be a bit more positive about myself , my identity and my life. 

I fall into habits of self punishment and doubt. I grasp onto my phases of self love and acceptance. I have a wonderful family. I love my friends. I love to write letters. I love dressing up. I love writing in new notebooks. I love magazines with pictures.I live with fascinating people with radical views about the world. I can't wait to move away from this city. I am in a long distance relationship. I'm impatient. I'm moody.  I am terrified that I don't know what I want to do with my life, and I'll waste it as a consequence. I'm scared of being judged. I'm scared of judging without realising. I'm scared of becoming predictable.I'm scared I'll forget about the most beautiful moments, or that I will miss them. I'm scared about the world. I want to be with my boyfriend.

That's me.