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Stopping now.
Nov. 12th, 2006 05:38 pmOh, this week's all been a bit silly really. I was at least sensible and went home on Friday night, but then yesterday was yum cha with ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chiller and bucuo, which seemed to stretch into the afternoon; then Paul called - he's about to go to South Africa for six months and was having a leaving thing. Right, said I to chiller, they're out in Angel now, it's only half five so I'll go and meet them for a quick drink and then come home before dinner. Excellent. So I headed to Angel and found Paul and Dave in a pub, and had a couple of beers, and time seemed to go very fast and Paul said that the restaurant was good and cheap, so OK, I thought, I'll go for the meal but go home straight after. But then there was bottle after bottle of Chilean merlot, and suddenly we were in a pub somewhere in North London, and then another pub, and I was smoking (I never smoke! Because it is horrible!) and then a taxi, and then in the Funky Monkey in Camberwell, doing some sort of terrifying salsa dancing with a West African called Boh. Brilliant! Then Paul and everyone else left and finally I was poured into a taxi around 3am. For fuck's sake. Am so easily persuadable; it was a great night but hello, I am poor, I am 28 and too old for such shenanigans more than once in a while, and most importantly I am trying to do a PhD and write a novel and cannot afford to write off whole days because I am too hungover to cope. Furthermore, alcohol is after all a depressant, and while I am roughly a frillion times better than I was a few weeks ago, drinking does occasionally bring out some sort of raging angst and insecurity.
Anyway. Woke up this morning, the world was tilted on its axis, my lungs felt like they'd been filled with concrete (smoking! Just say no!) and I was somewhat limp with self-loathing. Dragged self out of bed, was plied with yogi tea, and forced myself to go for a run (first exercise since I got back from Sudan! Was surprisingly easy), which made me feel better in body but inexplicably bleak in spirit. But we went to the caff, which helped, as did a blow by blow description of a documentary about honey badgers, delivered through the magic of text messages, and by mid afternoon I was buoyant again. Still have not done any of the things I was going to do today (aside from the running) but the evening is stretching out before me all empty, and I WILL be productive, I WILL.
( but before that, a meme. )
chiller and bucuo, which seemed to stretch into the afternoon; then Paul called - he's about to go to South Africa for six months and was having a leaving thing. Right, said I to chiller, they're out in Angel now, it's only half five so I'll go and meet them for a quick drink and then come home before dinner. Excellent. So I headed to Angel and found Paul and Dave in a pub, and had a couple of beers, and time seemed to go very fast and Paul said that the restaurant was good and cheap, so OK, I thought, I'll go for the meal but go home straight after. But then there was bottle after bottle of Chilean merlot, and suddenly we were in a pub somewhere in North London, and then another pub, and I was smoking (I never smoke! Because it is horrible!) and then a taxi, and then in the Funky Monkey in Camberwell, doing some sort of terrifying salsa dancing with a West African called Boh. Brilliant! Then Paul and everyone else left and finally I was poured into a taxi around 3am. For fuck's sake. Am so easily persuadable; it was a great night but hello, I am poor, I am 28 and too old for such shenanigans more than once in a while, and most importantly I am trying to do a PhD and write a novel and cannot afford to write off whole days because I am too hungover to cope. Furthermore, alcohol is after all a depressant, and while I am roughly a frillion times better than I was a few weeks ago, drinking does occasionally bring out some sort of raging angst and insecurity.Anyway. Woke up this morning, the world was tilted on its axis, my lungs felt like they'd been filled with concrete (smoking! Just say no!) and I was somewhat limp with self-loathing. Dragged self out of bed, was plied with yogi tea, and forced myself to go for a run (first exercise since I got back from Sudan! Was surprisingly easy), which made me feel better in body but inexplicably bleak in spirit. But we went to the caff, which helped, as did a blow by blow description of a documentary about honey badgers, delivered through the magic of text messages, and by mid afternoon I was buoyant again. Still have not done any of the things I was going to do today (aside from the running) but the evening is stretching out before me all empty, and I WILL be productive, I WILL.
( but before that, a meme. )
