I've been tempted to write for a while, but mostly moved to list Stuff I Want, which doesn't make for interesting reading for anyone but me. So I'll resist.

I have a funny little needling pain in my wombular area. I just felt moved to share that.

There is a Wedding next week. I am making adventurous cake plans. I don't want to do anything though, I feel devoid of motivation to do anything but read and sleep. I'm reading a lovely book called Prep by Curtis Sittenfield. It's really spot on. I'm not sure how autobiographical it is, but is reads just like it's real.

I was reading a passage about the protagonist completely failing to understand Calculus, having got left behind and never caught up. The anxiety of the familiar feeling of not having a fucking clue and having no idea how to grasp one almost caved my chest in. So familiar. Maths!! shakes fist* There is also an achingly familiar relationship that only consists of sex and longing on her part. At least, I assume nothing will blossom from it, I'm nearly finished. So familiar - I went through my whole teens going, whatever you like, don't mind about me, I'm not someone anyone needs to have any consideration for, sorry for bothering you, just be nice to me for five minutes more. It sucked. Though I'm not sure I ever could have worked out what the alternative might have been. I'm not sure I'd know how to now, either.

Ach. Well, it's a good book, I'd recommend it.