The soundtrack to the past few days has been 'The Message' by Grandmaster Flash. It has been playing inside my head incessantly. Fortunately it is a favourite of mine, so it's been quite pleasant really. It makes a nice change from the first movement of Mozart's Symphony no. 40 in G minor, which is probably best known as an extremely popular and very tinny mobile phone ringtone. Another one of my favourites, but, as they say, a change is as good as a holiday. I'm sure old Mozart would like 'The Message' too, he was always quite up with whatever was hip at the time.

Today at work, Erica and I raided the CD collection of the heavy metal helpdesk boys who sit a few desks up, and located a hip hop mix CD which happened to have 'The Message' on it. So we played it on repeat. At least now I know a few more of the words, so I can sing along. We were shushed by a rather grumpy lady who sits nearby. I don't know why, I had training with her the other day and she plays her radio so loud that I could barely concentrate. Today she turned it up even louder in protest. Fun times in health insurance land. A nice balance to the mass redundancies that were announced a few weeks back, at a big meeting in a conference room at some fancy hotel on Pitt Street. At least we were provided with free alcohol and finger food.

Tonight I drank with Vanessa at the Avillion hotel bar. A real find as bars go; we stumbled upon happy hour, complete with free finger food, nice live jazz and, of course, ridiculously cheap drinks. A nice surprise, as the last time I went there the place smelled like horses and was devoid of jazz.

I should have really gone home after that, because I ended up in tears at the Rag & Famish in North Sydney. Never been a fan of that place. Last time I went there I received much unwanted attention from a drunk young man who spat on me when he talked (hopefully not intentionally). I think Simon had to pretend to be my boyfriend to make him go away.

I think I have written about the strangeness of Fisher library before, but I must say again, it is a mighty creepy place. I went there today in search of some writings by Goethe for my musicology project. After about 20 minutes of wandering helplessly through aisle after aisle of dusty old tomes, some of which hadn't been borrowed since 1972 (no exaggeration- I checked the return date slip), close to shedding tears of frustration, I conceded defeat and stomped my way down to the main desk to borrow the one useful book I'd managed to locate.

The search for books has occupied most of my time of late. Specifically, the search for two scores of melodramas by Georg Benda. I ended up having to buy them both, as this worked out cheaper than flying to Melbourne or Brisbane and photocopying the entire works, which I would have had to do otherwise. One of the ones I have bought is apparently quite old and rare. Nicholas, I shall have to seek your advice on whether or not I have been hoodwinked. Hoodwinked or not, it was the most readily available score I could find.

This past week has been rather awful, mainly because I seem incapable of doing anything constructive. To use a cliche, something has to give, and I'm not sure at this point what will be doing the giving. It can't be uni, cos they've given me money that I will have to repay if I drop out. So that narrows it down a little I guess.

I don't want to think about it. Perhaps I should just be grateful and leave things as they are. I'm off to look at pictures of cherry frocks on www.pinupgirlclothing.com. Ladies, I recommend taking a peek. Gentlemen, there are even a few photos of ladies in bikinis to keep you amused. O