Needless to say, what with the snow and the extra week of holidays and the not getting up ‘til about one in the afternoon, there’s not an awful lot going on in my life. Which is fine. I sort of like this nothingness. Mainly because it’s self-inflicted. There are times when you’d end up smearing your own excrement on the walls of your bedroom for the want of something to do. That’s usually someone else’s fault though. They’re busy or something. But I’m sort of choosing this inertia. Probably the best plan of action (or inaction, whatevs) I’ve had in a while. I’ve gotten rid of all forms of distraction (sort of), and it’s bizarre, but I think I like it.
However, typical me, I’ve found a new distraction/ obsession. I hope it’s temporary. If not, it could well end up being the very worst plan of action that’s ever occurred to me. And it will be action. That’s the truly terrible thing. I can guarantee that I will do some awkward, forceful and embarrassing thing just to, you know, cement in people’s brains that I am actually a freak. You’d think that because I know I’m going to do it and I know it’s a bad idea, I’d do something to prevent myself from doing it. But no. That’s the tragedy of Emma Norris, I think: even though I know something is a bad idea, I will still carry it through to fruition just to make sure. It does make for hilarious relaying of details afterwards though. Amy Coe genuinely laughs at me for ‘the situations you get yourself into’. Oh well.
In other news, I’m utterly bored of Twitter. Who knew narcissism had a limit? Hmm. Actually, I probably only had one reason for being so interested in Twitter all along and now that that’s diminished, Twitter has lost its charm. Gosh, I’m a sucker for a bit of attention, aren’t I?
Formspring, on the other hand, is good. I quite like all the blogging references where people are all like, ‘Keep up the good work!’, ‘A+’, etc. It makes me happy to think that people like reading my nonsense. Is that arrogant? It hardly is, is it? I don’t know. It’s nice to be liked, or at least have something I write to be liked. It’s really nice. Giddy nice. Oh shucks.
Oh, I’ve also convinced myself that the world is actually going to end in 2012. And I’d really rather it didn’t. I’ve grown quite attached to this life thing over the past few months and I kinda want to enjoy it a bit longer too. Rather than until I’m, what, twenty-one? That’s dreary. But at least it’s a nice number, I suppose.
Here is a picture of my back garden covered in snow this morning:
I got my camera, y’see (finally) and I’ve been pretty snap-happy with it since. For example, here’s a picture of me:
Okay, so I didn’t take that. Obviously. Mummy Dearest did. She wanted to make sure that whoever saw the picture would see our cooker and our tiles. And the raw chicken on the table. Hmm.
Photobucket is merciless in its extreme slowness. Maybe it’s me pushing it towards the edge in choosing to upload twenty-three photos at once. I don’t know. Tried to think of a clever and high-tech way to send some photos to my Yankland brother but Hotmail is a bit of a berk and so is Photobucket. Ended up just putting ‘em on Facebook, which probably seems like the most obvious solution to the problem anyway, but whatevs. I was trying to be fancy. Didn’t work. He’ll probs see them so it’s gwand.
Feeling sort of emotional tonight. I don’t even want to say what’s up. I think just wallowing in this lovey dovey wanty moods is enough for now.
This post was honestly going to go somewhere but it started at about four o’clock and it’s half nine now and was ist der Point? Leaving on a jetplane. Might well have something interesting to say tomorrow, though I doubt it.
Chocolate ice cream is in order, I think. Also, if you feel like cheering me up, go right ahead. Bleh.