Hussian brought something amazing to my attention halfway throught the week as we were approaching what the world would call St. Valentine’s Day, which us singles refer to as “Singles Awareness Day” in bitterness. It’s not so much the day that bothers me so much, since I’m sure St. Valentin was important, I just think that it becomes a bit ridiculus. Even amongst friends, who exchange valentines, or don’t, there are always those that are left out and don’t even get wished a good day.

One of those, ironically, is me. I sit in the conservatory for a good five hours, and people come and go being all happy and spreading their love amogst each other, and I am left to vegitate on the couch doing homework in bitterness. In fact, I woke up quite thinking that the day would be good, but as hours progressed it just got worse and worse, to a point that by 1am of the 15th, I was at Ducky’s bar, drinking my life away getting more and more bitter.

In any case, it was just a rought week, being compacted on other horrible weeks, and only now I’m just starting to realise that I need a vacation a lot, not only to get ahead on some work, but also to just relax. Only one week to go, and then I’m homefree.

Back on track; I went to Sargeant Kate’s Lonley Singles Party to sooth my troubles, and there was quiche; so I was happy! But then I kept backing the drinks down, and the next thing I know we are at Ducky’s and I can’t manage to stand, but yet I can still articulate quite well. I talked to Brian for a good few hours; or basically we argued about my life, and I can tell that he’s quite dissapointed in me and my attitudes. This doesn’t surprise me, but his awesomeness made me feel at least like a good person; but good people never get anywhere in life.

I stumbled home, fell a few times, wished that someone would come bash me and hide me in an ice-pile (which unfortunately never happend). After arriving at our trecherous driveway, I stumbled a few times in the cold, and then struggled to get up the stairs. I feared throwing up so I downed two letres of water to sooth myself, and then fell asleep like a baby.

I woke up, not going to Vocal Methods because I felt like death, and then progressively I studied for my women’s literature mid-term, which I wrote still drunk I think. And then I took a nap, and I started to feel the effects of being hung-over, and thus I mosied around the house looking and feeling like death! Even now as I wake up two days later, I’m still hung over and in desperate need of Rania taking me to meal-hall so I can lick my wounds and eat my emptiless stomach until it hurts and I regret living and feeling bloated.

I have work to do this weekend, and then next week will kick my ass no doubt; but it’s okej. Somehow I will get through it, and the first way to do so it to watch Melodifestivalen that’s on this afternoon. Oddly timezones are doing strange things with me, last week it was six hours different, but now I’m only four hours behind, and thus three to Iceland. I wonder what’s up with that, as daylight savings time is far too early; but I am noticing that it’s not dark when I get home from classes, and this alone makes me more productive!