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Kiwi Crocus
08 November 2010 @ 01:10 am
My weekend:

* Friday = lectures, Barbara kindly stopping in with Pip and I during our lunch at Mojo's, two compliments on my hair by pretty girls. Home to work on presentation. Bonfire Night fireworks in the garden - great laugh. We maaaaay have illegally set an epic firework off in the park...maybe. And if we did, it was probably fantastically beautiful.

* Saturday = working on presentation. All day. Occasional under-30-minute breaks. Passed out before 4 a.m., before Mark even returned.

* Sunday = presentation until 6 p.m. Then celebratory chocolate I had been saving! Mmmm. Chinese with the housemates. Harry and Sarah. Dissertation sources.


Events/Feelings/Misc.:

* Presentation: I am nervous. I am always nervous until I step up and start speaking. Mind, why can't you remember this? Ditch the fogs of temporary amnesia, please! I want the stomach butterflies gone! I also have ridiculous pictures in mine. I am fine with this.

* Harry and Sarah: Apparently Harry had to return to church in the evening, so our hypothesis is that they just stayed here for hours to avoid walking to his house. Sarah also ASKED Batgirl if they could bake brownies in our kitchen, and Batgirl responded she'd prefer not. Sarah's response was something like 'well you don't have to eat any brownies'. Sarah, that is not how it works, because YOU DON'T LIVE HERE. Batgirl told them they didn't have any eggs. I had no proof of this, since they saw my egs. alsdkwjflaksdjf poot. The whole house is fed up with them and we have avoided meetings the fast few times. Sarah can tell they are unwelcome. Harry is oblivious. However, he believes he is being Properly Christian by being here, so he will keep coming even if we express that we prefer he didn't because he is Keeping a Christian Presence in the House. Regardless, the whole thing feels invasive and we hate it and we are discussing what to do.

* Dissertation: alsjkdflkajsdf [[swears ahead]] FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK SHIT DAMN AAAAAAGHHHH POPPY'S PANTS WHAT THE FRAK AM I DOING WRITING A DISSERTATION? |Cools down.| I have not been incredibly successful with my search for sources, I feel incredibly little taking on a big project, I am overwhelmed and feel hopeless. My meeting is Tuesday. I have little to put on the table. I feel like a complete and utter fuckup.

* My mouth: I have begun swearing like a sailor at times. This has previously never happened, at least not at this level. I feel there is a correlation between this and the fact that I am dying of the disease called 'dissertation'.

* Fanfic: minerva_fest reveals are up. I can now express that I am ridiculously ashamed of my story, for I did not fit the proper prompt and could not think of a sex-situation that would not de-stone-butchetise dear Wilhelmina. I am a failure. I am not at all inventive. I want to smash my head on the keyboard and wall. I should have left the sodding prompt to kellychambliss, for she would have worked wonders with it.

However, one person did think I was capable of producing something Kelly had written, and thus my grief was slackened for a moment and nearly turned to glee. Then I remembered deadlines and it shrivelled again.

Rarepairs fest is up again, which I think means I have been back in Harry Potter fandom (publicly) for a year. Has it only been a year? I'm shocked.

Finally, I did realise my best pieces created were my first two, and it is not my Writer's Insecurity talking, it is understanding of the perfect prompts I had. Maybe someday I'll get a prompt that inspires me that much again. Perhaps not. Hopefully I won't botch any more prompts. (If I fail one aspect, I feel I've failed in general; unfortunately nothing changes this point of view.)

That's my weekend done. Maybe next week I won't feel like a terrible student! What a thought.