I passed.
Actually, I got the equivalent (roughly) of a 2:1 pass for my Creative Writing course.
Go team me!
I need 60 level 1 humanities credits and 60 level 3 music credits and then I've finally finished my degree.
Wow.
I still want to take this year off, though. Definitely.
On a whim, I auditioned for the part of Mrs Partlet in The Sorcerer today. I was sight-reading, and I'd not seen the lib before today, either. Ida took me through it before I had to get up there and do my bit.
It was so much fun. I had such a great afternoon.
To cap it all off, I got the part.
Woohoo!
I had a nightmare last night. A proper waking-up-disoriented-and-freaked-out nightmare. That hasn't happened in a while.
It was strange. Usually, there are evil men in my dreams. Not this one. I dreamed that the house I was living in was attacking me and trying to kill me. I don't remember if it had already succeeded in killing someone else as the memory of it is now too vague, but I was sure that it was trying to kill me. I kept looking for a saboteur, someone who was obviously setting it all up, but I couldn't find anyone.
While I was bench pressing, the dream kept coming back into my thoughts. At one point, I almost felt the urge to get up and get away from the bench in case I was attacked from above as in my dream. I don't remember many of my nightmares affecting me that badly.
Kiss Me, Kate is not going well. I am concerned.
So, someone spent around 7 hours checking out my xanga today. Seriously. 7 hours. I mean, I always knew it was a masterpiece, but now it appears I have been validated. What I can't figure out is where said someone was from. There are clues it might have been from somewhere in the UK, but also clues that it could have been someone in DC. I say this because of marked coincidences in footprints left. I wonder how accurate that tracker is.
My Leg Press is getting so crazy that one of the PTs didn't believe me when I told him what it was this evening. He actually insinuated I wasn't doing the exercise properly. I say "insinuated". I mean "blantantly said so". Anyway, I wouldn't believe me either if I hadn't actually done it myself, and Jim would never allow me to cheat on a rep; every rep is as deep as it can go, even if it makes me want to puke. With my little short girly legs (I used to think they were long), I can't engage the machine properly to start off, so I need help from two guys to lift the weight on before I begin the set, and lift it off after the set is finished. It's hilarious.
Once I begin the first rep, though, it's all me. Pressing all 240kg tonight. 528lbs. More than 37.5 stone. I couldn't even lift the frame with no weight on it in my first PT session. Is it wrong to be this pleased with my progress? I don't know why it makes me so happy.
Happy happy happy!
Oh, that'll probably be the endorphins. Cool.
I can't sleep. The dress rehearsal for Kiss Me, Kate is tomorrow. I can't stop the music going round in my head. Not that that should be a surprise to anyone. I conducted it for about 9 hours straight yesterday.
One more week and then I'm free to not obsess about the show any more! Hurrah and huzzah!
Clearly, Simon Cowell and Louis Walsh have realised they are not sufficiently wealthy, and have taken to stealing the possessions of Japanese women in exercise videos, as shown:
So, like, some days are just nice. Mostly, I think it comes down to attitude. There's a lot of stress floating around at home, particularly given that the shop door still hasn't been properly mended and that Mum went to visit June today, as well as Princess's best friend's new born baby, and frankly, Princess even being near my Mum is enough to splash stress all over the furniture. I did what I always do at times of domestic stress; I went out.
I went to the gym and spent about 4 hours there and they were among the best 4 hours of my week. In fact, all the hours I've spent at the gym this week have been fantastic. I need more. Anyway, having discussed my immediate goals with my PT, Jim, I am now entering my first ever intentional bulking phase. Seriously! I know! Partly, this is brought about by my total inability to eat less food right now, but mainly it's because I'm immensely addicted to seeing the numbers go up on my lifts from week to week, and feeling so incredibly strong when I move stuff around, lately.
In some ways, it's a little silly, to be excited about moving crates of coke bottles about with ease, or flipping the unnecessarily heavy counter flap up without any effort, but it's just amazing, and I've hardly even started. There is so much stronger to get, yet. I am, as they say, loving it.
My bent over row is now almost as heavy as my deadlift (40kg) from my first session with Jim. It's 37.5 kilos for 12, or 82.5lbs, or 5st 12.5lbs. That's, like, lifting 2 four-year-olds. And my deadlift is currently 65kg for 10, or 143lbs, or 10st 3lbs. That's, like, deadlifting Drew. If he didn't wriggle and had convenient handles.
Okay, so, it's nothing, not compared to what it'll be one day. Not compared, even, to what it'll be by Christmas, when I start my cutting phase (I'll wait till January, 'cos I want to enjoy Christmas). But it was so exciting to look back over my weeks of training with Jim and see the progress.
I went and saw two one-act plays tonight. Very funny. Also, I ate good Chinese buffet. What more could anyone want?
Then, driving home from the theatre, I realised I needed petrol very badly. So, I pulled into a garage (or gas station) and put some petrol (that's it, I'm bored with the extra translation; google it if you really, really, don't get it) in my car. But, when I went to pay for it, I realised I had forgotten my PIN, and couldn't pay by card.
"Can I sign for it?" I asked politely.
"No, sorry," he said, in heavily accented English, and he waved a form at me. "You pay tomorrow?"
"Can I pay over the phone?" The absurdity of this notion was not lost on me; if I can pay over the phone, then they can accept a signature in advance, without the card, for that, and yet, if I'm there in the shop, with the card, I can't sign for my petrol.
"No, sorry."
That's not true. I've had to fill in one of these forms before. You're not pulling the wool over my eyes. "Yes I can." I frowned at the form. "Have they changed the form?" Nope, there's the bit about phone payments. I pointed to it, and he took the form back from me.
"No, sorry," he repeated.
I was beginning to lose my rag. "Yes, I can. Look." I pointed at it, snatched the form back, and read it out to him. He looked a little nervous. I hate it when I turn into a bitch.
"Okay." He backed off and left me to it.
I filled in the form, even his bit, reading his name off his badge. You never know. I signed everything, then I asked for the phone number.
He printed it off, on receipt paper, then ripped the bottom half off and, for good measure, got a pen and underlined it. Why? I do not know. It was the only phone number on there. I probably would have been okay working it out for myself.
I grabbed my purse and turned to go. "Okay, I'll call you in 2 minutes."
"Two minutes?" He gaped at me.
"I have the card right here." I brandished it at him. "I just don't have the PIN."
I honestly think he thought I was barmy. Maybe he wasn't wrong.
In other news, my period is late. Hmmmm.
It's harder than I thought. In some ways, this is a constant reminder of how much I gave up. In others, an indication of how far I've come in the last two years. I wonder why I gave it all up. I'm pleased to discover I didn't need it all.
But that was always the agreement, wasn't it? It was not to need each other, but to want to be together. At some point, we must have stopped wanting.
I am, however, having a lovely holiday. Even if I am really, really, really, hungry.
He reminded me vaguely of Gavin, with his long hair and unkempt grungy look. He'd stood, watching Jay sing, hanging on to every word, just as he'd been staring at the two of us curled up together on the sofa, flicking through the karaoke track listing. He trailed Jay from the stage, wearing puppy eyes and a hungry expression.
"Seph, this is Stan. Stan, Seph," Jay gestured blandly.
"Hi, nice to meet you." I held out my hand to shake his, but he seemed to not really understand, so I waved.
He waved back. "So, are you two, like, together?" Stan asked, desperate to seem casual.
Jay raised his eyebrows for my benefit and rolled his eyes. "I'm gay and she's straight," he replied. "Not really, no."
"It could work," he justified.
"How?" Jay mocked.
"I dunno," he mumbled. "There could be financial benefits."
I lost interest. Jay feigned a headache. We left, went back to his and had a pot of tea and half a box of chocolates while we traded stories about relationships until about 3am when we decided I was staying the night.
People are weird. Seriously. Did he really think we were together? He knew Jay to be gay, already. He knew that when he grabbed him months ago and refused to let him go until Jay kissed him goodbye (and if Jay were a woman, that would be serious sexual harrassment). Poor guy. I'd have felt sorry for him if he wasn't so like Gavin. Shudder.
Anyway. Have you noticed that you can keep a secret for months, or years, but as soon as you tell one person, you suddenly feel like you can tell anyone? It's like that for me. After the first cup of tea I explained how I don't talk to people about stuff in the same way since I was with David. I got so used to cutting myself off from everyone but him, now that I don't talk to him, I feel like I have no-one to share my secrets with.
After the second cup of tea, when Jay told me a terrible story from his previous relationship, I suddenly felt moved to tell him a similar story from mine. One thing led to another, and I told him something I'd never articulated since it happened. Until then, of course.
Jay was brilliant. He just listened, and when I cried he gave me a great big hug. And now, I feel like I can talk again. I feel like I can tell people what I'm thinking; how I feel.
I feel like the evil inside of me is lessened.
My mum told me that I seem happier. I am happier. I'm dealing with things. I'm going to learn not to be so vulnerable. I'm going to get back into MA, and I'm considering Muay Thai or BJJ. There's an MT class about half an hour from me.
I'm never going to be that vulnerable again.
And I think everything is going to be alright
No matter what we do tonight.
I had a signed copy of that single. Lost in the move, like so many other things.
Blue and I drove down to London for the signing, but I had to be back at work in the evening, so we missed them in the end, but we paid for a CD each and left it to be signed. It took ages for them to come in the post and that git, Perry, didn't sign either of them.
There's something about Aerosmith's music which is inherently sexy. It helps that some of their songs are blatantly about sex, but also, Tyler's voice almost always sounds as if he's teetering on the brink of orgasm, and I find that infectious. Not like an STD kind of infectious. That would be really gross.
So, the overhaul? Well, I was beginning to feel dowdy. I know if you look back over some of my really early entries (don't bother), you can see how the whole "pencil, paper, greyness as far as the eye can see" thing made a lot of sense, but I just don't feel quite the same anymore. And as for my little pencil drawing profile pic, the mistakes in it were really beginning to get on my nerves. I haven't gotten around to drawing anything new, yet, so in the meantime, I've "gone Girly". Perhaps it teeters on the verge of agony to look at, but I like pink right now.
3nj0y!
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