I seem to have managed to attract two stalkers in almost as many days. Both have contacted me via the B3ta mess4ging system and have written nothing about themselves in their profile, so it's currently only a one-way stalking. The first appears to be a woman who's just discovering the joys of cybersex and is either extremely hyper or still a teenager. The second provides no information about themselves at all, except that "I have been reading your blog for a while and lurking on B3ta for ages and have enjoyed reading your views and opinions." I mentioned this to Alex who said he'd received an identical message. Curious, he asked if anyone else was also a recipient, and it seems that yes, we aren't alone. The plot thickens...

My back's been a lot better today, luckily. However I was in agony by the time arrived home this afternoon as there was great pain in my hips and at the top of my left thigh. I hope this is due to the back and not just a random occurrence of which there shall be many more. Rory said that I needed to start doing yoga and he's right. I was looking through the regional arts listings magazine yesterday and there's a belly dancing class starting a few streets away on a Monday night, which sounds interesting, I could meet some good people there I expect. Whilst it's not exactly yoga, it is a form of exercise and thus is Good.

I finished reading Jeanette Winterson's Art and Lies last night. All her work makes me want to go and confess my undying love to her. She stirs passion and sympathy and desire and admiration and envy in me. She seems to have deep, thorough knowledge of every aspect of life, and can make her reader care deeply about a subject they previously had no knowledge of. She makes me want to go and learn everything the world can teach me, though I did already want to do that anyway, so I suppose she just reminds of my unquenchable thirst for it. I could go on, but I believe I've written at length before about how perfect her books are, so it would be worthless repeating myself for the sake of it. I can't recommend her enough though. 23:43  

Recently I have been listening to the divine sounds of Band of Holy Joy, Midnight Choir, Max Richter, Meligrove Band. and Mars Volta. You'd be right if you guessed that I'm currently listening to the M section of my mp3s.

Just been for a walk with Simon, trying to find items to photograph for my project. It's a nice day for a walk - a little wind to cool you, cloud to stop the sun blinding you, not very warm, though not cold, to ensure you don't get too hot. We walked through some parks and explored streets we hadn't been down before. Saw the first bee of the year, and it looked like a large one. Now that I'm home again, the cloud has cleared and blue skies can be seen, but it doesn't matter, the sky's not going anywhere, I can always look at it tomorrow. There's still plenty of daffodils around, all bright and yellow and happy. Last week I even saw some snowdrops who were still hanging on. The crocuses are also out, bushes are budding and are growing leaves again. It's a very invigorating time of year, with all the new life and growth surrounding us. Ostara, the celebration of the spring equinox, has been and gone, we're on the uphill climb to the summer now, though it feels more like a downhill slide, as it's easy to watch summer arrive, but often it's tiring to persevere through the middle stages of autumn.

I've been thinking more about doing something with the window box outside the kitchen. I'd love to grow some flowers in it, but I'm worried it would be destroyed by passing louts on the way home from the pub. They already leave rubbish in it anyway. But maybe they'd let it be if it was obviously being used for some greenery and not just sitting there uselessly. What would I grow though? Flowers aren't my specialty, let alone those suitable for outdoors / window boxes. I guess I should do some research on it, though suggestions are welcome.

Yesterday I went over to my parents' house to do some scanning and printing for photography. Dad had gone to the football match, mum's on holiday in Spain, and Robert was sulking in his bedroom, so I got a free rein of the house essentially. I tool advantage of playing loud music and printing off Natacha Merritt photos. There's an academic reason, honest.

Other than that, I haven't been doing much. I'm planning on going to Belfast over Easter, via Chorley for Gavin and Janie's housewarming party. Rory and I have finally agreed on a set of dates for the trip. My back is slowly getting better, though it still can be painful at times. It's the last week of the term at Swarthmore next week, which means I'll get a rest from gluing small pieces of glass to that sodding MDF board - hurray! 14:25  

Still nothing happening. I hurt my back somehow, does that count? Oh, and I bumped into David in Beanos.

Damn it, I really need to develop some content, don't I? 20:35  

I've finally chosen to do interiors for my exam work. Items normally found inside but currently outside. Out of the blue, I remembered that when I was living in Bramley, there occasionally would come a catalogue for the previous tenants from a company which manufactured iron beds and gates. Having no ethics, I opened said catalogue, and found that most of the beds were pictured, fully made, sitting on a beach. Because a lot of beds go for picnics on the beach, don't they? Anyway, this memory sent me searching Google in the hope of finding a website for the company, whose name I can't remember, so I could use their photographs in my work as examples of similar things to what I plan on doing. Unfortunately I can't find a site, if anyone knows what I'm on about and could help guide me in the right direction, please say so, but I did manage to find the site of Shelley Thomas, who makes some wonderful, unique iron bed frames, amongst other items. My favourites are Beverley's Bed and, er, the SaSi Bondage Bed. Ahem. 21:15  

Not having a good day. Feeling fat and ugly and useless, as I do most days, but also new stuff is wrong. The flights between Leeds and Belfast are more than are currently affordable so there's a chance I may not get to see Rory until July. A library book attacked me earlier and cut my thumb. I forgot I had to go see my psychologist and my next appointment isn't until the end of April. The photography tutor was in a hellish mood and was shouting at everybody. One of the people whose images I used in the new e-hugs feature said he hadn't given his permission for them to be used and was being very snotty about getting me to take them down (which I did, to keep relations steady). The photography tutor was looking through everyone's work today and said that some of Claire's had "magic" but said nothing very positive about mine, so am I wasting my time persevering with photography and should I just cut my losses and go back to office work? Simon wasn't sure if he was going to come round and see me tonight or tomorrow, and as he hasn't appeared tonight, I presume he's intending to come tomorrow, which is also the day for the first meeting of the second bout of the SHIP women's group, so I shall have to leave that early to get home in time to see him. And other minor things which are all building up to knock me down. I want to go hide and have hugs. And liposuction. 17:49  

Not much has been happening. I still haven't chosen an exam topic. The meal with parents on Thursday went reasonably alright, except for my dad trying to illustrate what the phrase "tipping the velvet" means in the restaurant. I never want to have to see that again. Urgh. My e-hugs system is finally up and running, after lots of Rory-pestering to get the database created. Though it might have cocked stuff up with my photo gallery. Other than that, I have nothing to report. 09:23  

I've not been feeling very well, these past few days. I had a bit of an eating binge on Tuesday, which predictably made me feel fat, ugly and horrible, and also rather depressed. I cheered up a bit last night when I went to the pub quiz with Phil, Tom and Rogan, who also brought his flatmate Chris along. It was an Irish themed quiz, it being St Patrick's Day and all, so I took advantage of my connections with Rory and rang him to ask for some of the answers. We still only scored 30 (out of 40) though.

Our tutor gave us the photography exam papers on Tuesday. It's the same paper for both the first years and second years, and for everyone doing an art and design course - fine art, photography, textiles, graphic design, sculpture and so on. Thus not all of the options are too feasible using photography, but some are appropriate to all mediums. There are 20 options to choose from, we have to select one. We have six weeks preparation, 5 hours of execution. Some of the more interesting options are: on the edge; twilight; recessed space; windows; legs; interiors; shadows. Some other choices, whose inclusion is frankly bewildering, are: opaque; event; acquired; figure(s) with ladder. Note it doesn't say figure with ladder(s) - would you lose marks for including more than one ladder?

I was considering taking many photographs of people, animals and furniture, anything which could be said to have a leg, and then printing them, cutting them out, and swapping the legs around, so you get tables wearing slippers and so on. I also thought about the window option. I wondered about taking photographs of what can be seen through a range of windows - like those belonging to a council house, to a middle class house, to an office block etc. These would then be mounted on stiff white card, and I'd make a pair of "curtains" to fit around the photograph, appropriate to the setting it was depicting. Though I may draw the line at Venetian blinds. I thought last night about expanding on this to also photographing the building whose windows I'd be using, and attaching those shots to the back of the card, to allow for some context. However I could completely change my mind and do a different theme altogether. "Interiors" is a very wide-ranging option - anything which is inside a building counts. Though I did think about photographing items in the street which would normally be found inside a building but have been left outside. For example, there's a duvet laying in the street I walk down to get to the bus stop, and on a road close to Swarthmore, you can find a table with a computer monitor on it in someone's garden. And then there's "shadow". All photographs are comprised solely of light and shadow, and some very arty things can be done using shadows. And that's just taking "shadow" at it's first meaning. There's more than one use for all these words, which is one of the wonderful things about art. However in this situation, it's providing so much choice I can't decide which to pick, and that's something I need to decide on fairly quickly. 14:20  

I should blog but I can't be arsed. Damn this laziness. In summary: went to Sheffield, didn't do much, saw 21 Grams which was very good, Cinnamon is fine but has a heart murmur which shouldn't be a problem as long as he doesn't get too fat, should be getting my photography exam paper tomorrow and I'm actually looking forward to it, feel fat and ugly and horrible, not keen on my new psychiatrist as she didn't let me answer her questions before asking new ones, finally got my GCSE photography exam work back, got abandonned two days in a row at SHIP with no warning it would happen and was less than impressed, Ed may come to visit me some time next month, I may go to visit Rory some time next month, Stuart wants to visit me sometime next month but I forgot to let him know when would be OK, can't get Music For Girls by Baxendale out of my head, the server my sites and mail are hosted on died and almost lost everything but Rory luckily managed to save it, we're already halfway through March and it feels like we should be at the beginning of February - where is the year going? 19:27  

The server's back! I have email and a website again! Hurray! 21:26  

I have returned from Birmingham. I'm knackered but can't sleep due to my excessive sweets consumption today (Bournville, Hula Hoops, Coco Pops, Frosties, diet Coke vanilla, plus chips, beans and an apple for good measure). I managed to get up at half six relatively painlessly, I just could never make a habit out of it. Very few people had signed up for the trip, it seemed. The coach wasn't even half full. I think there was 17 students and four teachers in all. Some students were down as having registered to go, but didn't make it there before we left, around 8:10 or 8:15. I soon settled down to read Daughter of Fortune, which I'm loving just as much as Allende's other books. How many other writers would describe a character's penis as being gherkin-like?

We got to Birmingham on schedule and went to look round this 'ere exhibition thing. We were all expecting much more than what we were presented with. Basically it was three small room's worth of work. And yes, the work was all fantastic and scarily good, but it wasn't exactly going to take us three hours to look at it. Everyone became intimidated by the standard of the work around them, our tutor, Matthew, had to give us a little pep talk, saying that there's nothing on display which we weren't capable of making ourselves. We didn't believe him. We all split down into groups and I followed Claire and Ruth around, who'd adopted another student, Isra, for the day. We had a look through the shops in the complex, one of which was a Pagan shop. They had some beautiful athames and other ritual materials. There was a miniature cauldron, properly blessed herbs, crystals, tarot decks, some lovely jewellery. I was a bit suspicious of the goddess keyrings though. Their book selection wasn't very encouraging either, it was most Llewellyn crap. Still, they did have an interesting range of tie-dyed babies clothes. I ended up buying two beaded bracelets. Claire bought a bumper sticker for her stepdad which said "My karma's run over my dogma." I would have laughed, had I not heard it repeatedly due to the miracle of the internet. "Be cautious in the affairs of dragons for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup" still manages to raise a slight smile however.

There wasn't really anywhere to eat, which was unfortunate as we were hungry. There was a small newsagents effort, but nothing edible for me in there, aside from crisps. I suggested going to a pub, but Isra's Muslim and won't go into pubs, or even beer gardens. It was a bit cold to be sitting outside anyway. We went for a wander and eventually I persuaded them all to go into the coach station, where, after much indecision and deliberation, we finally managed to decide on something, mostly chips. We went back to the exhibition afterwards, as at least it was warm there. We passed another shop on the way which was selling some ace jewellry, and Isra had to talk me out of buying a bracelet made from fridge magnet letters which spelled "kinky". They also sold bracelets made from keyboard keys, earrings made from guitar plectrums, and a range created from multicoloured foam shapes.

On the journey back, I settled down with my book and some CDs again, but ended up having a conversation with Paul, the Fine Art tutor, about education, art colleges vs schools, the absurd but required notion of giving a piece of artwork a numerical score in an examination setting, and other various related things. He was saying that if a student produces a piece of work that the examining board really like, the board can take it and refuse to give it back. There are things you can do to reclaim it, but it takes a long time. And that technically any work produced whilst on a course in college is property of college, regardless of whether it was created using only materials the student has bought themselves, made in their spare time and so on. The same goes for the tutors, and that if they make any money from any work they do outside of their teaching, college can claim a percentage. Paul did say that they'd have a very hard time actually getting the money though. It also turns out that he's a friend of Andy from Swarthmore, they used to be in a band together, before Andy lost his arm. I said I'd tell him that he'd said hello, should I bump into Andy again.

We'd left Birmingham on time, and somehow managed to make it back to Leeds 45 minutes ahead of schedule. I suppose not stopping at motorway services on the return leg helped by 20 minutes or so, but it was still unexpected. I was glad to get home, via Morrisons of course, and found my latest purchase from Ebay had turned up, along with the prospectus for Norwich School of Art and Design. They obviously thought more about their acronym than the site I came across recently for an American university who didn't realise what the initials of "School of Communication And Theatre" (I think it was) produced. I'm investigating possible degree courses, so I can decide if I truly do want to explore that route, and thus take a Foundation course, or if I should be expecting to be job hunting in 18 months time or so. I think by next summer I should be just about ready for full time work again. As I said to my psychologist last week, I have to face the reality that soon I won't be too ill to work any more, and the state will stop giving me benefits. This means either getting a job or investing funding whilst studying. I don't expect to have to do this within six months, but certainly within twelve, it should be an issue. The course I'm interested in at Norwich is the BA Visual Studies. It sounds like the kind of thing I'd like to be doing, so I've asked fellow B3tans who live in Norwich for their opinion on the city and so on. Obviously, the largest percentage of art and design courses are in London, but I know I don't want to go there. I suppose there would be no harm in researching what was offered however. It's better to make an informed decision than just to make presumptions. I'll try to do that later this week then, as I won't have time this weekend. I'm looking forward to going away, it will be nice to Cinnamon again, and to see some potential huggers (is it bad to think of people in terms of how many hugs I can extract from them?) 21:13  

I don't like mirrors, as a rule. They refuse to show me what I want to see, and it upsets me. So I try to avoid them as far as I can. At the last house, my bedroom mirror had purple velvet draped over it so that I couldn't catch my reflection unexpectedly and thus I was always prepared for what I saw. I've managed to not recover it now that I've moved, it was a trial run at first, but it's been reasonably successful as the mirror's in a less prominent position than it was previously.

I used the mirror twice this morning. The first time was when I'd put my underwear on, and the second after I was fully dressed. Without my clothes I looked so lumpy and bumpy. All blobby and wobbly and ugly. I want to be lithe and slim, someone who would be confident wearing a bikini, should she so choose to. I'm quite some way from that. When I checked my reflection after getting dressed, things were much different. I seemed quite slim after all, I wasn't as horrific as I first seemed. This made me feel like I'm hiding my true nature. I'm pretending to the world that I am thin and attractive, when the truth is hidden beneath my clothes. What would people say when they find out I've been lying to them? I don't want to give people reasons to hate me, so it seems to be that I shouldn't keep up this pretence any more, that I need to expose the truth, dress in a manner which reflects my true state, so that no one could accuse me of fabrication, or distorting reality. It wasn't a good start to the day.

I spent the morning gluing more bits of glass to a piece of MDF. Not terribly exciting, but better than painting. The afternoon's pottery lesson was fairly enjoyable. Only two of us showed up to the class, so it was quiet and peaceful. We learned about the base of pots and how to create, modify and adjust them. The teacher brought our bags into the room we were in, as there's been a spate of thefts recently. This turned out to be good planning as about twenty minutes before the end of the lesson, the other student who'd showed discovered her coat had gone missing. We hadn't thought to bring the coat in with us, the teacher said she didn't think someone would take a coat. I was glad I left mine at home today, as the sky was blue and sunny when I'd left. They went up and notified the office whilst I stayed with our bags. The people in the office rang the police and they arrived pretty much instantaneously, but we didn't manage to retrieve her coat. She'd left her bus pass and house keys in its pockets, everything else was in her bag. It's a bad situation when things like this are going on. I suggested that in future the door to the pottery section was kept locked, but apparently it's meant to be left open. I'm not sure if this is for health and safety or just for general access.

So that's all the exciting news. On a less riveting tip, I brought home my slab pot. The firing went well and the glaze looks good, though I think I added too much of the second glaze, as the colour is quite a bit darker than what I remember aiming for. I'm going to give it to Tom when I go stay with him this weekend. Haven't got a clue as to whether he'll appreciate this gift or not, but I've got to find something to do with all these pots, and I definitely don't require any more myself. In fact, if you'd like a pot, leave a message in the comments section and we'll discuss. 21:58  

I've always hated Sundays. They're depressing as hell, nothing to do, no one to see. No energy to do anything with, even if there was something to do. Sundays are like the whole of one's teenaged years squashed into twenty-four hours. The only good thing about Sundays is that they're followed by Mondays, and thus by Things To Do again, the only hope in this barren land of dreary, monotonous ... bleh. Actually, "bleh" sums up the day better than any other word I can think of. If I ruled the world, Sundays would become illegal. And cake and bagel eating would be compulsory pastimes. But I digress.

Predictably, I have nothing much to report. The most exciting experience I have to relate, though extraordinary in itself, is a lone figure in the desert of Stuff What I Have Done. All the more stimulating events are taking place next week: a trip to Birmingham with college, a trip to Sheffield to see Cinnamon and an appointment with my new psychiatrist. Thus the pinnacle of my week has been consuming the delight that is Green and Black's new cherry chocolate. Fuck me, it's divine. I didn't think anything could beat Maya Gold, but they've managed it. Good job it's so expensive or I'd be living off of it.

Looks like I'll have to resort to detailing other people's lives. Rory has finally moved house, to a new flat in Belfast city centre. He's without a telephone for at least another three days, and ADSL-less until the end of next week. I don't know how he'll cope. Presumably by partaking in plenty of masturbation. Another relative has corked it. They're dropping like flies now. My mother has decided to go visit her father, who lives in Western=Super-Mare. I don't recall ever having met him, and the amount of times I've ever heard him discussed can not be into double figures. I don't know if this visit is a direct response to the deaths, or whether it was conceived of independently, I didn't ask. I was invited to come along, she's planning on traveling in May, but I have no curiosity about the man, and an aversion to traveling large distances for little reason. Thus I'm staying put here, thanks.

Though I may pop out and go get some chocolate soon. 16:46  

Living in Burley certainly has its bizarre moments. Last week a bloke, who was obviously heavily stoned, danced his way across a pelican crossing on the main road. This morning, I was getting ready to cross a minor road when a bloke who seemed to be in his mid-30s started running towards me waving his arms. Usually I do my best to avoid such nutters, but I had nowhere to go this time, and he knew I'd seen him so I couldn't just blank him. Against my better judgment I asked him what he wanted. "You know anywhere I can get a cup of tea?" Tea?! I don't drink the stuff myself, so I said no, I didn't, and looked away, hoping he'd leave me alone. "You won't make me one then?" The cheek! I should have told him to fuck off or something more eloquent, but I simply said no. I just wanted to escape as quickly as possible. He went on to ask if there was any cafes in the area. I know of one or two but I wasn't about to direct him to them after he'd been so rude. I said no, turned away and crossed the road, fuming. It was an interesting moment.

I went to SHIP and deposited the all-singing, all-dancing, god-awful yellow bear in a Mac with them. Surprisingly they seemed to find it funny, and could even watch it play Singing In The Rain for several minutes at a time. Which beats my record by, oooh, several minutes. Eamon suggested they incorporate it into an anger management course: see how long you can watch it for without beating its cheap, corporate, tacky arse into a furry pulp.

After SHIP I went shopping. I'm searching for a pair of trainers for the summer, as my current ones are on their last legs. Converse have some nice designs but charge more than I'd like to pay. I'd love a pair of Art shoes, no matter how much they cost (which is lots, incidentally) but they don't do any which don't have leather or suede in there somewhere, much to my disappointment. So I ended up not buying any shoes, probably a good thing considering I spent £5 on used books (The Chymical Wedding, A History of the World in 10 1/2 Chapters, Ariadne's Clue and I and Claudius), £4 on calcium supplements, £3 on Green and Black's cherry chocolate - now my favouritest chocolate in the world (even nicer than Maya Gold!), and also spent £13 on CDs from Ebay (Crustation and the Frank and Walters). I need to stop my spending now, I was buying things as I had an unexplained rise in my bank balance, but that's gone now, and I don't want to start losing money again. 19:32  

Now that the coursework essay has been handed in and forgotten about, my evenings are feeling strangely empty. For the past two months or so, all my spare time has been defined by whether I'm writing my essay or avoiding it. Now I don't have to do either, I don't know what to do with all the time. I feel I should be something, but can't find a replacement. Hopefully normal laziness levels will be restored soon.

The past two days have been warm and sunny, I think Spring is here. I've been able to go out without a coat, and the wind has been much milder too. It's been pleasurable to be outside for a change. I don't know how long this will last, British weather is notoriously schizophrenic, but it's hopefully a sign of nice times ahead.

College is organising a trip to Birmingham next Tuesday. We're going to the Custard Factory to see "an exhibition of past student work." Why it couldn't have been organised in Leeds isn't explained. We're leaving at 8am. Not the most friendly of times. I suspect the CD Walkman my dad gave me for Christmas may get its first use. I hate coach trips. And then on Friday I have to board another one to go to Sheffield. It's a busy week. 14:46  

The Essay Of Doom is finally complete and handed in. I don't know how good it is, I don't know if I answered the "question" (in quotation marks as I never set a question), I don't know how successful it will be as I don't know the criteria it's being marked against. But it's done. And I feel so much better for it.

I've read two other people's essays, one about Cindy Sherman and one titled "When does Camp stop being Gay?" or something similar. The second was very badly done, it was full of spelling and grammar errors and was drastically in need of a good proof-read. Many concepts weren't explained and I felt that it was rather shoddy overall. This gives me hope that my work may, in actuality, be better than my critcal eye has deemed it.

There's a talk on Thursday about the Foundation Studies course which the college runs. I tried to find the page on their website so that I could post a link, but their website seems to be refusing to work. Hmm, not a good sign. Anyway, I know very little about Foundation Studies, so I'll probably come along to the talk, even though it's at the abominable time of 11am. I asked my tutor previously about whether I might be accepted onto a BA course here after finishing this A-Level, as I'd be applying as a mature student and thus won't need the usual application criteria. He said that I might be, but they would still heavily recommend that I take the Foundation course. I guess it's in my interests to at least find out about it, then I can properly gauge all my options.

In my life outside of college, I was at Swarthmore yesterday, and we were allowed on the potting wheels for the first time. It was scary at first but I was determined to not let it intimidate me, and I ended up having some fun. My pots weren't very successful, I pulled the top half off both my first two attempts, but I managed to salvage something from the second and made a very small but very cute dish. This made me happy and I'm looking forward to using the wheels more next week. I even managed to stay relatively clean whilst using them, until we cleaning up at the end and I poured a sponge full of dirty water down my trousers and boots. Ah well, it had to happen sometime.

I've been listening to some great music in the past few days. Current recommendations include the Killers, the Workhouse, and lots of other people I can't remember as all my music is at home and I'm in college. Damn. 10:49  

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