More Fry :)

Funny how hard it is to live in the fear of being found out for the phoney that I am. I'd have thought someone would've mentioned it at some time.

Meanwhile, keeping up with The Liar as in Fry's Meisterwerk gives some comfort, at this evidently being an infirmity not as rare as to not be written about.

And to think I was arrogant enough to think moving continents would assuage the intensity of the malady...

Hibernation, I'd say.

Ha. So I did just pick up and leave, only really telling the people I cared about.

It's been too short a time to say if it's good, but I'll keep an eye on it. I miss S though. A lot.....

Hurrah! Respite at long last in form of girls' night (eve?!) out at our favorite, dearly beloved - TGIF! Happy hours, here we come!!

And I take a minute to say a quick R.I.P. to any other bunch of people that choose to be there this evening. Rather pious, I think.

Have spent the whole day getting pissed off, only respite being Led Zep blaring in my ears.

Spent a half hour fantasizing there is really some bizarre explanation for my mood swings, dementors and the like.

Worse still, have imagined there's logical reasoning behind my decidedly masochistic behavior (wearing 3 1/2" heels and trotting around all day counts in my book).

Have been sorely missing the absence of a book in my bag exactly when I feel so like it. More Stephen Fry, perhaps. Have been having surreal conversations with people all day when it's been one of the more-misanthrophic-than-usual kind of days. Have been surreal as I was drifting in and out of them at will, at least that made it that much more interesting.

Was this one conversation with person that sits next to me at work, where I was pointing out rather pointedly the pointlessness of the entire rut (:D). Didn't listen to half the things he said in reply, and was almost continuing on earlier spiel when realized (just about in time) he was talking about pointlessness of manager. Was v funny.

(And that was my attempt to write in Bridget Jones-like fashion, just to see how it feels to imagine self as un-coordinated hot British chick :D)

Rather a long hiatus, it has been. Being cryptic is the order of the day, so - 'Either I've got a life and they're imaginary; or they've got a life and I'm imaginary'.

Yes, I have been reading Stephen Fry. Again.

I'm overworked and underpaid. And undernourished, according to S. Undergrown, more like.

I must be the only woman around who says 'Are you insane?!' and nearly falls off the chair when a man (that she rather likes) says he's sure he wants to spend his life with her :D And then tells him it's a good sign if she didn't run real hard in the opposite direction! I don't think I'm changing a-while!!

Sometimes I wonder if anyone would even bat an eyelid if I just let everything be and left. I get this feeling people are just waiting to say 'I told you so', even if it's just to each other. That everyone's got this replacement all ready to take over my life, they're just waiting (with bated breath and collective sighs - the works) for me to drop it and take off. Like everything is staged - the silences when I'm in the house alone and doing whatever I feel like, they can't be real!

Even as I type there's a camera that zooms in on what I'm writing and a large bunch of (popcorn-in-large-bowls) folks are sitting in a room and laughing at how retarded I am. And there are guys with walkie-talkies outside this room, reporting my every movement to one another, sniggering all the while. 'Can you believe this? She's blubbering onto the blog, and she thinks it's real! I love my job, when all I do is observe a git like her!'

Maybe I am imaginary.