Although my Midlands poem got ignored. It wasn't good enough anyway, I should have spent more time on it. And made it rhyme. There was a time I believed a poem wasn't a poem unless it rhymed, and I spent hours on hours on some homeworks ensuring that they did. I loved doing poetry at school and I was a little upset when we stopped writing them and just analysed them instead. I find it darkly amusing my crazy poem is actually a lot better. When read aloud. So much of my poetry works best read aloud. I wonder why that is? I'd like to think it's partly in the telling, and yet...
Although I do feel again that my poetry isn't that great.
Laura came round and made me stew! Which is lovelytasty. It was a good evening, Laura is a sweetheart, and it was very useful to just let feelings out (at a different person's lap this time). I worked out the two, possibly three, things that together were leaving me feeling so all-over-the-place. I am afraid of sounding like a bit of a broken record when I talk about some of them though. Generally, I'm very succeptable to paranoid fears. That's the main thing. They never seem paranoid when I worry about them though.
I'll be less cryptic later. Right now, I am in my new pyjamas. Or the bottoms at least, since it's too cold to wear the top. They are wonderful. Not quite wonderful enough for me to wear them onto campus, mind.
I don't know if this entry is going anywhere. I probably should, though.
