The ecological theatre

This morning, I took Chris to my nine o' clock lecture, as he owed me for the ISE lecture I attended last week. Luckily for him, it just so happened that my lecture was on redox potentials, which involves voltage and other things which are more to do with Physics than Biology, so he was in his element. In fact, I think he rather enjoyed it, which makes me think that I should have taken him to a more difficult lecture. Something to do with prokaryotic genetics, perhaps?

Oh yes, and there was another perk for him.

"There are girls!"

Welcome to Biology, love.

Do I get a gold star?

Incredibly, I did some work this afternoon. I summarised the lecture notes from this morning, ascertained that the lecture I missed this morning wasn't that difficult, and revised the lectures I missed back in December because I was too lazy to get out of bed. So, a productive day for once.

When I spoke to Rikki this afternoon, he informed me that he'd pulled a muscle in his neck. How he managed to do that is a mystery. Two other mysteries: how my sore throat manages to cause me pain when I yawn (although singing is no problem at all), and why the fridge in our utility room is making a noise that sounds weirdly like "nom nom nom".

It sucks

Month anniversaries appear to bring with them an increased probability of things going wrong. Take yesterday, for instance. Not only was my throat still hurting like fuck, but my stomach had decided to give me gyp too. Throw a serious conversation (inspired by Amy) into the mix, and it's safe to say that I've had better days.

After my afternoon problem class, by which point I was thoroughly sick of enzymes, I popped home for half an hour to pick up a spare pair of tights for today. I'm not sure if the knowledge that I wasn't wearing the same outfit two days in a row was worth the two-hour round trip, but hey, I had the time. My lunch had been a portion of mango, so I bought a waffle on the way back to Imperial and ate it whilst jammed between commuters on the Tube. Next time, I think I'll just have a small one. Without all that cream.

I'd arranged to meet Rikki in the Union after his meeting, but bumped into him walking down to the Tube station: thanks to his hangover, he hadn't remembered where he was meeting me and neglected to text me, so it's just as well that I have the gift of good timing. He had to rush home because of his doctor's appointment; I sat in the waiting room and wondered if the pamphlets on domestic violence were implying something by putting Arabic writing on the front.

Then we went to Sainsbury's to stock up the fridge, Rikki received a USB keyboard vacuum cleaner as a late Christmas present, we had a serious chat- I hope things are going to change as a result of it- before Cat came home, we all watched the latest episode of House, and went to bed. I missed my first lecture to try to get some more sleep, only to be woken up at half seven anyway. Rikki felt sick, so I left him in bed. I believe he's still there now.

February's not turning out so well for me.

We all need to calm down

Today is mine and Rikki's four-month anniversary. It hasn't gotten off to a good start: I had to get up earlier than usual to renew my monthly Travelcard. Mind you, I did go to bed at ten last night because I had absolutely nothing else to do. Such is my life at the moment. I use sleep like alcoholics use a bottle of whisky.

The good news is that I can stay at Rikki's tonight. The bad news is that Amy is not at all happy with him at the moment.

Not well structured

Me: "I don't think they make kilts in his size."

Chris: "They do, but they're called curtains."

The only bad thing about today was that I didn't see Rikki, because I'd assumed he hadn't come into college and didn't go looking for him. Oh, and my throat's fucking killing me.

I had a tutorial this afternoon which was as pointless as I'd expected it to be: we were supposed to mark each other's essays and justify why we'd given out a certain mark. This would have been fine if I'd received a brilliant essay I could pour praise over, but the one I ended up with just wasn't that good. I consequently felt a bit mean for doling out a lower mark than anyone else (fortunately for him, we have a generous tutor who never seems to give a grade lower than a B).

All I want tomorrow is to spend the night at Rikki's. Is that too much to ask for?

Sweeter than glucose

I'm glad that I don't have to start February with a negative post. OK, I think I'm coming down with something icky (my appetite's diminished, it hurts to swallow and my neck muscles hurt), but today hasn't been bad otherwise. Not bad at all, in fact.

Everyone's favourite lecturer has returned to teach us some biological chemistry. Who couldn't love a man who swears like a first-class navvy, openly mentions his husband, and prepares interesting demonstrations? Today, he made fruit caviar, and I would have gotten to try some if I hadn't been sitting at the back.

Seeing as Falmouth is now practically out of bounds, I used the microwave in the SAC for my lunch. There are so many people in there that I'm pretty inconspicuous, so there weren't any problems. Touch wood. Sadly, I wasn't very hungry and ended up throwing away half of my frankly unappetising mushroom risotto. Funny how I easily managed to eat a red velvet cupcake with chocolate tasting Chris- I think I'll abandon the prefix and just call him Chris from now on- after our excursion to the Hummingbird Bakery. As usual, we had a good natter whilst puttings crumbs everywhere. This may become a regular fixure, not that I have any complaints: he can even put on a Scottish accent. What more could I ask for?

Lack of resolve

So, how's it going with the resolutions?

1. Learn to cook. I haven't done much cooking this month, so that's not going too well.
2. Do not gain any more weight. Difficult to tell when I don't own a set of scales, but I don't look any fatter.
3. Work harder. I've only missed two lectures and a problem class so far, plus I've spent a lot of time in the library. Surely that counts for something?
4. Wear more jewellery. Yes, I suppose I have been doing this.
5. Be happier. Fail. Epic fail.

A question of time

Last night didn't really improve after I wrote that. Rikki tidied his room while I watched endless episodes of Charlie Brooker's Screenwipe and ate apple crumble. We had another argument before bed. It hasn't been our week, has it?
It has to be said that Rikki's having a bit of a tough time at the moment; I'm not at liberty to elaborate, but I can say that my being in a dodgy mood isn't helping. I was telling Amy about it this afternoon, and she's sceptical. She says that something is wrong and I'm not to blame. Rikki says that he just needs some time. I say that things had better start improving soon, or I'll start doing things I really will regret.

There are two fundamental truths in my life: my relationships never run smoothly, and Amy is right 99% of the time. The two are often interlinked.
Amy never seems to have relationship problems, because she's far too sensible to make a mess of things. In addition to that, men fall at her feet (probably something to do with her blonde hair, blue eyes and extraordinarily long eyelashes). Michael, bless him, is devoted to her. Anyway, the point is that Amy spends more time than I would like hearing about my own extensive relationship problems. It sucks that she lives in Southampton for most of the year. I still have her Christmas card and sunglasses sitting on top of my telly.

Things are going to be different this week. Oh wait, did I say that last week?

Something I may regret writing

I think that last sentence jinxed things. This evening has done nothing to improve my mood. I haven't had dinner, but I'm not hungry. I've cried about five times (albeit silently) and Rikki did not notice once.

OK, I'm going to do some more venting because I can't really do it on Twitter. Basically, all I wanted tonight was some cuddles and general cheering up. I didn't think that was much to ask from my boyfriend.

When I arrived, he was playing Borderlands. I patiently waited for him to finish, and when he did so, we went to watch Doctor Who. No cuddling; and this coming after he managed to miss my Facebook chat messages to him four times in two days meant that I was starting to feel ignored. Yay for being paranoid!

I was then reprimanded for using his Facebook account, which was already logged in, to post a quick reply to Amy's comment on my status. Now, I know that going on someone's Facebook account is a bit naughty, but there's a difference between fraping or impersonating someone and doing what I did.

By the time Rikki asked me whether I was all right, I was silently fuming and in the mood to play the melodrama card.

"You don't care. Go to sleep", I said coldly, seeing as he was sleepy after his dinner and already bundled up in a duvet on the sofa.

"If you don't tell me what's wrong, I can't help", he said.

This coming from the guy who is so intensely private that there's some things I'll apparently never know about him. I probably shouldn't be posting this, but I really need to get it out of my system. I want things to go back to how they were, in the days before we had stupid arguments every bloody week. When life was, dare I say it, worth living.

Don't cry, you'll smudge it

Here's a list of things I do not like, because I'm in that sort of mood:

• When the higher powers of television decide to replace leading actors for no apparent reason. This only works in Doctor Who, because he's a Time Lord in possession of the ability to regenerate and so on. It does not work in sitcoms about three twenty-something humans sharing a flat in Battersea.
• Knowing that I've pissed someone off, but not knowing how I've managed to do it.
• Feeling ignored, which is sort of related to the above point but not really.
• Putting on mascara and seeing that one eye looks better than the other, no matter how much you prod the other one with the wand in an attempt to improve it.
• The way my hair looks after I've blow-dried it. It looks best when I wash it, go to bed, and sleep it on it for about six hours. True story.

I apologise for the negativity; it's just that I've just had a boring day tinged with mediocrity. I'll be leaving for Rikki's soon, hoping that nothing will happen to make my day even worse.

Not on the funbus

I'm spending Friday night at home because Rikki's showing the Aldwych Group round Imperial tonight, or something. I haven't had a bad day, far from it, but my mood has still deteriorated since I left the house this morning to go to the hairdresser's.

Admittedly, the hairdresser's was nice. I got a head massage from the girl shampooing my hair, and my hair looks pretty good, even if I do say so myself (I wish I could say the same for my pale grey tights, which I shouldn't have worn when I was planning on taking a muddy shortcut). I was fairly relaxed by the time I left, but this feeling somehow evaporated while I was jammed in the queue in Subway listening to the schoolchildren behind me- who were visiting the museums in South Kensington- loudly trying to decide what to have in their sub. Irritatingly, bacon has been replaced by "turkey rashers", because all meats now have to be halal and pork is a big no-no.

Then I had to dissect fruit fly maggots for my practical. My lab partner and I must have butchered about five of the poor things in search of their salivary glands, and had even started naming them after artists by the end of it. This exercise in maggot butchery was followed by an assessment which, unsurprisingly, was difficult.

I went up to the SAC to say bye to Rikki, came home, and intend to spend the rest of the night watching Game On and other cheap British sitcoms. Roll on tomorrow.