I cannot believe it's been nearly two months since I blogged, and all letters of complaint can be directed straight to Stirling University who have been keeping me held hostage with numerous essays, scripts and lectures - which I now consider to be meditation hours. It's the only beneficial reason I can give for keeping my eyes closed. Pretending that my tutour's voices are actually the calming noise of whale calls has proven slightly more difficult.
So I was having a look at where I last left off and burst out laughing at the list of 'good points' I had applied to my new Turkish buddy. Unfortunately that relationship has turned sour - it's just never going to work when the non-English speaking member of the couple is sending abusive messages over Facebook because the other person went to a nightclub. I'm the one that speaks English by the way, although I am now also fluent in the broken form of my language and particularly familiar with the well known phrase 'you are slack girl'.
It got me thinking about the fine line between jealousy and full on psycho patter. I will be the first one to admit I can be jealous, but I believe most girls who have minor insecurities can be guilty of overanalysing things. However when you're being asked to delete all your Facebook photos that show you with boys (the one of me licking someone's nipple went down REALLY well), to stop speaking to any member of the male human race - although some of my boy pals might actually appreciate me not talking for a while, whilst running up phonebills which will no doubt be paying for every single O2 employee's Christmas Bonus, it's time to say "gule gule!"
So once again I am on the rack of love, a lost soul...and to be perfectly honest, I'm much happier this way than I've ever felt before. Part of this new found feeling of contentment may be to do with the fact that I went to see a psychic! Now I'm normally quite sceptical about these things, but my flatmate Teacakes had been earlier that day and was convinced that June was genuine. So I saddled up my donkey, and set off on the 3-day journey to her caravan up in the mountains - I exaggerate, she works in town. I didn't really know what to expect, and to be honest I was a bit of a nervous wreck before I even got in the room! I did it though, and it was one of the most wonderful experiences of my life. She told me I was going to go to Japan (at that point I was already applying), she told me about the person I was going to spend my life with (a hottie with the personality of Boris Johnsson...yeah moving on) and she knew about personal things I had gone through and how my life was going to change. Maybe she was fake. Maybe she played me like a chessboard. But I believed every word she said, and took great comfort from it in the process.
So the real question is...where is this good-looking , Boris Johnsson-esque love of my life? June also said she think he is a doctor, but as a result of my eagerness NHS24 have barred my calls. Apparently you aren't meant to use that service as some sort of personal dating line. Until next time folks!
