TALKING

Well, I'm sorry I haven't added to this for the past few days, but the truth is that I am just about sick and tired of talking. I know, that sounds weird, but I've spent so much time having conversations with Matthew about things, and talking to my friends and family about things (including, coincidentally, Matthew), that I'm sort of feeling like if I have to have just one more conversation about anything in the world, I swear I will eat my own head.

So anyway, typing here feels in some ways like a conversation.

Anyway.

Just so you know, I am actually on speaking terms with Matthew at the moment. I *so* don't want to discuss this. But if his name comes up later, I just don't want it to come as a surprise to anyone.

In general, I'm just annoyed at the sameness of it all. That's my overwhelming emotion today. You know--have the same stupid conversations about the same stupid things, none of which are ever resolved. Come in and apply for jobs that I never get. But I don't feel like I can just *stop* applying for work, even though I'm sick to death of it. I could stop having the conversations, but if I do that it means I'm giving up there, too, which is something I'll only do when I'm sure of it.

So every day I have the same thoughts about how I'd like to go apartment hunting once I have a job, which I don't have, so I have to postpone that.

I have read at least five books in the last three days. This is just on train rides and stuff.

I think that one of the problems is that the weather is miserable, too, so I'm limited in what I can do. And, of course, I have no money, so that limits me as well.

Mind you, I'm not sad or depressed and this isn't like a big tragedy. It's just a feeling of mild annoyance.

However, tomorrow the World Cup starts. This is sick and wrong, not to mention pathetic. I mean, the World Cup isn't--my enthusiasm is. Everyone knows that I am the most anti-sports person in the world. It is a well-documented fact. And I am so excited about this whole World Cup thing. It frightens me.

Also, next weekend is something called "The Jubilee" which has to do with the number of years of reign by the queen. Big celebrations planned, and my housemate is leaving the country for a week because he can't stand the thought of it.

Mind you, I am pretty sure this has its roots in the Jewish Year of Jubilee, but somehow I don't think that the Queen is going to do the whole debt-forgiveness thing that was an integral part of the Jewish Year of Jubilee. The freeing of slaves is just too passé, don't you think?

Anyway, I guess there are celebrations and things all over town, and the news is full of items like which pub you can go to to order a sculpture of the Tower of London made entirely of sausages and beans. I wish I was making this up. However, I saw this same (or nearly the same) report on two completely separate stations.

By the way, they still can't cook beef over here. I have, however, found a decent Chinese restaurant, and there is this complete dive near my house that has the most fabulous breakfast for three pounds. Mind you, it's fabulous in the sense that it's terrible. A nice, greasy, dive-type breakfast for those mornings when your arteries just feel too soft and squishy and you need something to firm them up a bit.

So all is not lost.

You know, it's strange, but I really thought only my sisters were reading this, but every few days I'll get an email or something from someone else, commenting on something I've written here. Bizarre. Don't you people have something else to do? As you have no doubt noticed, I have no life, and therefore nothing interesting to say.

Oh, I got a very polite rejection e-mail from the BBC. This was expected, from the way that faces fell when I said I had no work permit. I'm not all that upset, mostly because I don't think they were planning on paying me much money. But I do wish that I had a job.

Anyway, I think it's time for me to go find some chocolate. Although the doctor officially recommended cookies, I am sure she would approve of the substitution.