Dear God I have another term of History/Theory, someone kill me now!

At least, with Raffles I only had to endure 3 months of each subject, especially the ones I was least favourable of. But here, apparently H/T is really that vital for me that I, well, we as a class have to take it for two terms. I sigh loudly. I'm also more inclined to bitch about it. Mainly also because I fervently dislike my tutorial lecturer. She talks to herself and tells me naught when I shoot her questions. Added to the fact that because she tells me naught, I had scored less than satisfactory out of ten for my essay plan. How was I to know that an essay plan entailed a whole chunk of what was going to already be there? I've never done an essay plan before so I thought it was just an outline of what I will be writing about. Yes, I am raging and yes, I did ask her what an essay plan fucking is and like I said: She tells me naught! Nothing! Jack shit!

I am currently in the process of writing my travel journal. I know, I know, I should have done it earlier but I really couldn't be arsed before today. I'm not about to write belligerently about the weekly tasks though because I'm just that poetic. Everything I've written sounds so... dramatised... and out of eight weeks of work I've done but two. The third one is underway even if none of the bits of week three tie in to each other. I guess I'll have to BS my way out of that. I need them all done by tonight! Pulling an all-nighter just to sleep in on Sunday and print and arrange and make the lightbox. Oh, man, lights are so much fun. Yay for James Turrel.

I am super aware that the house has very thin walls and when people are in the house I speak less as opposed to if I were the only one in the house my mouth will not cease... When I'm on the phone, I mean. That's mainly because I keep few who know me well for some things and few who know me well for others. Not many know me in entirety, I'll leave it at that, Let's just say it's a defence mechanism.

Three down, five to go. I'm not writing the it on James Turrell, well, trying to anyway, but my head's just not in it and I do have to pee. But that means taking off my socks, getting out of bed, and going to the bathroom which has a draft. Not very comfortable. See, in KL, the only problem you'd have is melting from the heat. I can live with that because you can always kill the heat with ice-cream, cold water or just standing in front of an open door. The cold on the other hand... You can only do one thing: Hide.

Four down. Now, I really have to pee. I'll also heat up my hot chocolate for the second time. There's a bunch of morons making a shit load of noise outside my window and I feel like throwing a fit. Four more.

Five down. Three to go.

Six down. Two to go. Still have not gone to the loo. Still have not reheated the hot chocolate. Still somewhat sleepy that I think I might retire to bed and continue in the morning.

Yes, I fell asleep in the middle of writing the penultimate one. So here I am continuing this. Consider this post an amalgam of two days worth of brainfarts. I'd probably be living on toast and eggs until I finish it and get it printed.

The final piece. OMG YAY! I will eat something when I have finished writing. Then it'll be a case of arranging them on a surface with pictures and going to have them printed. The day is horribly grey as I sit on my bed, covered under a duvet. Bundled up pretty much the same as last night tapping away on the laptop. It's a serene sense of being as I listen to the sounds of the keys being hit and the the whirring of the washing machine where my bedsheets, duvet cover and pillow cases roll around, getting clean. The house is getting more and more liveable. I'm used to it, somewhat. Four years, that's how long I'll be here.

Last night, in the middle of writing I had thought of my late grandfather, a kind, gentle man, I sat, weeping softly and inconsolably for a few minutes. Ah, the finality of death.

Actually, I got halfway through my last article before succumbing to the hunger and now I work at the dining table with a frittata and buttered toast. Hee!

Done!