5:15 am - Saturday 17th February 2001

Apart from cleaning my nails and doing laundry, diary writing is another early morning distraction when I can't sleep.

It's been an interesting last few days, and I have been turning it over and thinking about things a lot. Some things are still unresolved, so I need to continue to think about those more. More prosaically first, work has been Ok and I'm making some progress synthetically, and hopefully I can give another paper to my supervisor to be submitted by next week. I've been sleeping amazingly well, or perhaps my sleep patterns are more like what they were before I started Androcur i.e. 8 hours instead of 11, it could be due to the cooler weather.
Today we had a show-bag making session for the Queer Department for Wednesday's Market Day. That was boring, but one of the guys had managed to score/con/get 150 gay porn videos from one of the big sex shops. He brought some over in a box to the beer garden where we were sitting and we were chanting "We want the porn" which was funny because it was Friday afternoon and hence quite busy there. As expected, out of ~150 videos, all but about 15 were gay porn, and of those left, most/all of the lesbian videos was "made for or by straight-male" lesbian videos. It was good fun though, and so I souvenired a copy of "Girl/Girl Hits" for um… research purposes, yeah research.

ACK! I just set off the fire-alarm in my room because I fired up the heater which has fluff on the element after being used a cooling fan for the last 3 months. After crapping myself, I jumped up on the chair and ripped the cover off and battery out and only broke three nails in the process. Suffice to say, setting off a fire-alarm at 5:30 am in the morning wouldn't make me the most popular girl in the building.

6:00 am - Well, in the hour I've been up I've managed to break the fire-alarm, clear the lint out of and somehow break the heating element in my fan and put my laundry into the drier. Maybe I should have slept in?

I suppose I am by nature a cautious person, maybe I'm cursed with a "too much realism" gene? On Valentine's day I got flowers for the first time ever, but what did they mean by that? As I said to a dear friend "I'm not responsible for your happiness, I just have a strong interest in it". I don't want to ever hurt anybody, but when you make someone happy, you by default have the ability to make them sad. I've discussed this with one friend, I need to discuss it with another.

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