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Still not dealing very well with all these unfamiliar pesky girl hormones. Am having big problems making even small and simple life decisions, because I don't trust treacherous brain, which keeps shrieking that the world is ending in doom and gloom and all is lost. (And for chocolate. Because right now, I am all of the cliche.) I nearly burst into tears earlier when someone thanked me for helping them out with something, which would have totally trashed my carefully cultivated cool and cynical reputation.
I swear, if this doesn't stop soon I am going to tear my uterus out with a pitchfork. As it is I am fully expecting to get home and find that Kris has emigrated to Alaska.
Am still managing to keep on with portfolio, however slowly. Got about 12 pages of 30 done now, but they're 12 of my best work (I think). So if I got wind of an amazing job tomorrow and needed samples to send off, then I could definitely pull something together. I reckon I can have it all finished and ready to go within a week, maybe two if I actually factor in sleep. Admittedly this means I have done absolutely no party prep for Friday but let's face it, that was always going to get done at the last minute anyway. At least now I have an excuse.
('If anyone even turns up at all, because they all hate you,' says treacherous brain. Thank you, treacherous brain. Your concern is duly noted.)
Have decided I need to get back to writing again, now. Was trying to put this off until I'd at least got applications out, as I know how easily it can become just another form of procrastination. But I'd also forgotten that writing also helps keep me sane. I need that small, infinite space in my head that is full of voices and silence and is totally, completely, utterly mine and mine alone...
(And chocolate.)
I swear, if this doesn't stop soon I am going to tear my uterus out with a pitchfork. As it is I am fully expecting to get home and find that Kris has emigrated to Alaska.
Am still managing to keep on with portfolio, however slowly. Got about 12 pages of 30 done now, but they're 12 of my best work (I think). So if I got wind of an amazing job tomorrow and needed samples to send off, then I could definitely pull something together. I reckon I can have it all finished and ready to go within a week, maybe two if I actually factor in sleep. Admittedly this means I have done absolutely no party prep for Friday but let's face it, that was always going to get done at the last minute anyway. At least now I have an excuse.
('If anyone even turns up at all, because they all hate you,' says treacherous brain. Thank you, treacherous brain. Your concern is duly noted.)
Have decided I need to get back to writing again, now. Was trying to put this off until I'd at least got applications out, as I know how easily it can become just another form of procrastination. But I'd also forgotten that writing also helps keep me sane. I need that small, infinite space in my head that is full of voices and silence and is totally, completely, utterly mine and mine alone...
(And chocolate.)
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Would you like us to bring anything other than ourselves and a bottle or two on Friday? I could make some skull shaped gingerbread if you like :-)
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