I have discovered that the following course of action is pretty good for relieving stress:

1. listen to Tool
2. not go to university until 4:30pm and eat a really good salad you have made
3. eat pizza (while crying)
4. read the Roswell High books by Melinda Metz
5. write angry poems about your friends to include in my upcoming zine. why luv when u can h8?

actually, now i feel kind of upset that, in a moment of stupidity, i gave away all my Roswell books and only have two that elsie found at a market for me. feel free to scour your local bookstores on my behalf.

I went to the doctor this morning with my usual laundry list of ailments that I save up so that I don't have to spend $6.50 that often. She told me that I should read Dinah Bradley's 'Hyperventilation Syndrome: a Handbook for Bad Breathers'. She asked me if I was stressed. I said everyone is stressed. She said 'are you tired?' I said everyone is tired. She told me I should find better ways of dealing with stress. As soon as I left I felt a million times more stressed and upset and my legs went numb and tingly. How do you deal with stress? This is an actual question. Drinking is not the answer I am looking for. I want to go for a swim but I have no money. I want to go for a run but that is a lie. I want to be alone in a nice house but I am never alone and my house isn't nice. I'm sitting in the Women's Room at university and I just ate a whole packet curry, and paneer really does not seem like the kind of food that has a long shelf life and can be eaten out of a cardboard box for $2.99. Oh my god I am a Bridget Jones-esque caricature of white Western womanhood. Where is my Eat Pray Love?

internet nite owl

you think people who stay up til dawn do it because they're "artists" or they are depressed types and staying up all night seems romantic in some way, and i know that people stay up all night doing things like writing or reading or drawing, because i'm friends with people like that, but i think i'm doing it wrong because / i stay up til dawn so that i have an excuse for sleeping all day tomorrow and not doing things i need to because i wouldn't do them anyway and i will sleep til one anyway but 'maybe' i'll get something done tonight, if i just stay up. but all that happens is you get a back ache from slouching on the couch and clinging to your laptop like it's your best friend. and you say to yourself, 'oh I'll watch a Wes Anderson film' and I'll annotate that article but actually you refresh facebook every two minutes and watch criminal minds-esque repeats on tv and you get really hungry / but you shouldn't eat late at night and you shouldn't eat any more because you always eat too much,\ and you know you can't say anything because it's not like anyone's forcing you to do this and you write a blog post about it because you have nothing nothing nothing interesting to say  //
and always you've been scared that people will find out how not interesting you are, might as well make it apparent to anyone who still has illusions about you

bleak as / lie in bed four hours after waking up feeling like you swallowed a sock / and your mouth is hot / and you might get suffocated by the pile of shit in your bed/table: four books, i'll read none, paper to write letters to friends you neglect, notebook you keep to remember your life but you don't remember and you feel too ashamed to write anything true / clammy hands and five years of mascara never washed off coats your eyeballs like cataracts

FEEL LIKE IAN CURTIS

i think i drink too much / too much waking up depressed

get real hungover these dayz (age) / can't fall asleep if i'm drunk? what's with that

~~~~ i think i am enjoying chch for the first time in ever though ~~~~
went to a gig at a house last night, bands ruled esp. Winter, had a gr8 chat with Simon, got to look at those amazing Hope family cheekbones from afar <3 <3 <3 always look on the bright side

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

passover

i forgot what i wanted to write. i thought that if i opened up a page, stuff would come out. just got back to christchurch from sydney a few hours ago. didn't die in plane crash, didn't have an aneurysm, didn't bleed from anywhere. all in all, a success. sucked saying goodbye to mum. didn't cry. tears in eyes, didn't roll down cheek. hate that. happened also in melbourne, while watching This Is England 88 with Dan. we both cried at the two same bits. so in synch. n'synch. i love daniel. i would have no friends if it weren't for him. NYE 2008 4EVA. where were YOU?? nah, probably would have met everyone eventually. christchurch is small. gbm. st albans. "community". anyway, mum. i was really used to not seeing her, but now i feel like i don't know how i manage to not see her for ages. probably won't see her until december, if she flies back for my graduation. i guess that time will go fast, but right now it sucks. at the airport duty free lounge i sprayed several cardboard samples with fragrances my friends wear. so creepy. endearing? creepy. i hope that one day, in twenty years, someone smells a stranger walk by wearing dolce and gabbana, 'the one' (for men) and think, "oh Daniela!" yearn for me, dix. like that time i though josh was in the supermarket before i remembered that other people can buy '1 million', but for a second my brain forgot he lives in london.
it's weird that i can be in one country and then three hours later be back in this place and it feels like i've never been anywhere else. the magic of flight. routine takes hold pretty quickly, maybe that's a good thing. kind of looking forward to getting back to dunedin, kind of not. everywhere becomes a cave eventually.

australia ruled. got to have coffee and weird fake meat burgers with David, saw Rob, stayed with J-ho, and spent a lot of time with dan and jules and will and hannah and brit. melbourne is way flatter than i thought it was. last time i went to sydney i was fifteen and i thought it had a soulless vibe. i also was really into placebo and fluorescent plastic jewellery though, so dunno how valid fifteen-year-old-me's opinions were. got really good vibes this time. so many babes and bookstores. gelato everywhere. skyscrapers and glass and metal and stone and brick piled on top of each other = good. don't think i'll ever make it as a travel writer huh. too much in my head. listening to glass vaults and fleetwood mac. fleetwood mac is sad, right? a lot of times, i say a song is really sad and no one else thinks it is. what makes a song sad? lyrics? melody? biographical details i reckon. fleetwood mac is sad because you know they were all wrapped up in a torrid love/rejection/regret/pain thing. nirvana is sad, obviously. glass vaults is atmospheric and sounds like a big empty space and experiences that you can't go back to. fever ray is sad because i listened to it having sex then fighting and walking in the rain, now it is "so profound". kurt vile is sad because it's daniel's room and the airport bus that you sit on for ages by yourself after saying goodbye to people you adore and get on so well with and never live in the same city as.
i have to pee but i don't want to get up so i'm going to go to sleep before i have to.