I woke up this morning stiff and sore and covered in bruises. A quick inspection revealed a massive one on my left thigh, and a string of smaller (but no less painful) ones down the length of my spine. I have little to no idea of how I got them. Last night I went to a function for work, at Luna Park. Free rides, free alcohol, free food, adds up to general mayhem and, in my case, unexplained mild to severe bruising. I'm assuming that the rides perhaps created the bruises somehow? Particularly the bumpy ones- my vertebrae have practically no padding on them, sometimes just sitting in a hard-backed chair gives me bruises. Or perhaps the giant slippery slide. The leg one? No idea. Dodgem cars perhaps? The whirligig spinny train ride? The spinny disc ride? (I think I should re-name the rides, my titles for them are really quite catchy). I had perhaps the best night I've had in a while. Stumbled home somehow, started drinking some strange concoction made of vodka and vermouth (not quite a martini, but the best I could do at the time) then promptly passed out. Yay for me.

Anyhow, aside from the bruising, am currently suffering from the worst hangover ever, in all my years of binge-drinking. Yet I am feeling strangely happy. Double yay for me.

Another flawlessly beautiful day. Weather wise, that is. On days like to day I truly appreciate going to a university in such a charmed location. Despite its flaws, it's quite nice to be able to lie in the Botanical Gardens at lunchtime each day. Which was exactly what I was doing, when the familiar sound of the fire alarm siren interrupted my meditations (the third false alarm in three weeks). For a small campus, they sure manage to cram a lot of people in there. Out they all poured, high school students carrying cellos and violins, uni students taking advantage of the unexpected smoko break, cafe staff, librarians in their fetching yellow fire warden helmets. (The instrument-holding high school students reminded me of the scene in Fame where they all start jamming and dancing in the street). Were I not such a shy retiring type, I would seize control of the piano in the music cafe and start playing the opening riff of 'Hot Lunch Jam' in an attempt to recreate the stirring Fame cafeteria scene. I don't think I'd get much of a response. Amazingly, whenever I've tried to raise the issue of the similarities between the Con and the school in Fame, no one seems to have any idea what I'm talking about.

I am terribly anxious today, for some reason. Anxious, and plagued by dreadful nicotine cravings. My palms are constantly sweaty & my hands are shaking. On the train to uni this morning, I felt as though if I had to sit still for one more second, I could quite possibly start screaming, or laughing, or a bit of both. So I got off the train at Wynyard and headed straight for the tobacconist. The cigarette didn't help much. It's strange, the relationship that I seem to have with nicotine these days. When I drink, I must smoke. Apart from that, I can go for days, even weeks without having a cigarette. Then, a day like today will come along, when all I can think about is smoking. I really don't know what's going on there.

For the past few days I have been feeling very strange in general, perhaps the smoking fixation is a way of distracting myself from what's going on. Who knows. I seem to be stuck in the past, constantly daydreaming, unable to sustain a conversation or prolonged thread of thought. It's as though there's a movie marathon running in my head, playing all the old favourites from 5 years ago...mostly regrettable moments of extreme stupidity, missed opportunities with various people and things. I fear that it just might be driving me mad.

Perhaps it's the warmer weather? I find that this sudden warmth has put me in a rather strange mental and emotional place. My brain has decided that it's now on holidays, and that all I should do is laze about in my pyjamas and drink Corona. This is unfortunate, as I am terribly terribly busy, what with work and uni and viola practice, and various volunteer projects, and cooking and cleaning and the daily personal and houselhold maintenance. I don't have time to sit still. And, as always, I never want to do what I should be doing, even when what I should be doing is something I actually like and should be passionate about. As soon as I have to do it, it becomes tarnished and somewhat dull.

In other news: My musicology project is huge, I am very small, and am thus feeling somewhat overwhelmed. Did Schubert really have to write so many darned songs? I am learning the viola again, and have been practising a lot, much to the distress of the people in the apartment upstairs. When I practise my scales and technical exercises, they start thumping around and turing their crappy music up extra loud. Which makes me laugh even harder, because while I'm playing I can't hear much else except viola. Hah.