I still haven't done any work

Actually, no, that's kind of a lie. I finished the first draft of the tenth chapter of...my story? I dunno what to refer to it as. That thing I write in the vain hope that, someday, some loon will publish it and make all of my dreams come true! Yeah, so I wrote up the first draft of that on Friday night (yup, living the life) and sent it off to Noodles and the emo, two of my fiercest critics (not fierce in that they hate it, but fierce meaning that they are completely honest with me no matter what). They read it and reported back with what they liked/disliked about it. One of my biggest problems, I think, is dialogue. I hate writing it because, no matter how hard I try, it never reads like a real-life conversation to me. Of course, others disagree. But I'm a perfectionist. So I'll shut up about it now, lest I begin to irritate myself. But I shall rewrite it tonight anyway, and then see what they think. Again.

Last night, the emo took me out to this restaurant in Bray where I had the BEST pizza I have ever had (mozzarella, tomatoes, rocket and parmesan shavings - delish!). The guy eats fucking nothing, so I always feel like a total pig around him. It doesn't stop me eating though...ahem... We had a fantastic time. I got invited to a party with some of the druggie people afterwards, but I blew it off to watch The Breakfast Club (which has my favourite movie kiss ever) with the emo and snuggle up. It sounds really pathetic of me, but I'm so skint right now that I can barely even afford to drink. And people constantly paying for me just pisses me off. I cannot WAIT until I am making my own money again...grr...

In other news, I'm going to the hairdresser next week despite the fact I have enough bleach to do my roots twice more, and hadn't planned on going again until Christmas. My mother hates my hair, and has booked me in to get it "fixed" on Thursday. She's pissed off that, let's face it, I don't look the way most so-called normal daughters do, and she's a bit of a control freak, so she's decided that my hair needs to change or I must shave my head. I don't want to change the colour, because I love it. I don't want to cut it, because I think any shorter just wouldn't suit me. So it remains to be seen what my hairdresser is going to do on Thursday, but either way it's going to be interesting. It's my own fault for bleaching the shit out of it, I suppose. I just love it so much, I can't seem to stop... Alas, my mother has made up her mind. And when that happens, as it so often does, there's no talking to her. So I suppose I'll just have to sit back and take it.

I really have to start that project...

Or maybe I'll just stare into space for a bit...


Song of the day: Linkin Park - Papercut.