Rocco

For those of you confused, "rocco" means "horse".

It's not easy to post when all the internet you have is either someone elses computer or an hour or so in an internet cafe once every fourth day or so.

Blargh. I have a post written, but I'm not sure if I'll post it. It just contains more of the not-very-happy stuff.

Having Iwhy here was a bloody relief, and a blast. It was great. Estrogene-fix and lots of chocolate, chatting and fudge. A better week is hard to have, though I certainly can see myself having one without pains and stuff. Going to Studio 24 was a disappointment, again, though we got in for a lot less thanks to the flyers. By the gods, all those... girls. And men in long hair... I never thought they could look so utterly boring and similar! Very "youth entertainment house gone bad". We did dance, but, ugh, I need to find a better spot.
We visited the Albhanach and two days later the Malt Shovel as well, and had ourselves whisky, girltalk, whisky and live music. Very nice.

And now I'm back at trying to write my essay and somehow find myself again. I feel I lost me somewhere, I'm pretty sure I went somewhere else while I tried to work some stuff out that just won't be worked out (unreceptive recipients, if nothing else as well), and now... Heck, I hate it that faun is leaving. How the heck am I supposed to keep afloat then?

Also... girls girls girls. Argh! Had a particularily vivid dream of a girl dancing, and how she danced. Le drool. Hips, waist, legs, arms, breasts, face, hair... argh. Waking up alone and with no friend that eats only AA batteries was not very fun.
And I still have a boyfriend and no idea what to make of anything else in my life, than that I want to, right now, get a feel of some chick skin and hear a soft laugh.
But, that's that and just an added little irritation.


Better get going, need to be more effective in my studies. I suck.