11:32 p.m.
/
27 February, 2004

I'm babysitting right now. The children are asleep. I carried my little brother to bed and carried Tom to the sofa, covered him with a blanket. I'm going to make a fantastic mother. Shame the idea of carrying a child inside me makes me want to vomit. I'm a human being, not a carrier bag.

Talking of which, Rebekah emailed me today. She's still not had the baby, but promises to send me photos and a long email when she does. I'm not sure why she thinks I'm that interested in the life she's living with another man, the kind of life she told me that I couldn't give her. A tad insensitive, no?

Finally bought Amelie today. Everyone in the world should see this movie at least once. I have a thing for the failed writer. If I was ever in the movie, you know, in a freak universe, I would invite him to come live on my commune. I think that in a freak universe I would definitely have a commune, with dozens of mediocre devotees of all the arts. We would be entirely self-sufficient and have no contact with the outside world. Then there would be no-one to tell us we were failures.

Laura text me to invite me out to Girls And boYs tomorrow, but I don't think I'm going. It only depresses me. I can be stuck in a place with overpriced drinks and people I have nothing in common with anytime and anyplace, I don't have to dress up for it.

I've decided I'm going to try harder at uni. As soon as I get back, I'm going to start reading textbooks and attending lectures, really show myself what I'm made of. My recent crap marks have frightened me out of complacency I think. I wish it had happened earlier, I have four essays due in the space of three weeks, and not one of them is shorter than 2,500 words. Ah well, better late than never.