People are fragile things. (You should know by now.)

Today was depressing. The whale died. I nearly fell down the stairs, broke the hole-puncher so that a million paper holes flew all over my room and the scratch on my nose started bleeding again. Nice. My parents were out all day. My brother hasn't woken up yet. It is quarter past seven. I called him twice about half an hour ago to see if he wanted dinner. He was lying in bed fully clothed wearing a woolly hat.

(And I thought I was a slacker.)

Couldn't be bothered to cook anything, I'm trying to learn about vectors. Ate several oat cakes and two bananas instead. It's just one of those lonesome, sleepy Sundays where nothing happens for hours and then before you know it the tug and pull of Monday morning is upon you.

My blog is now one year old. I can't think of anything I've achieved in the last year, apart from churn out self-pitying bullshit across the internet. Depressing thought. Incidentally, and fittingly, tomorrow is supposed to be the most depressing day of the year. Makes sense really: bitter weather, tax returns, and the crushing anti-climax after Christmas and New Year.

Last year me and Louise went to three gigs, saw one movie and had one house party for our brithdays. Unfortunately this means whatever we do this year will be shit, even though we're turning eighteen - how much does that suck?? Would love to go to see We Are Scientists, or Editors, or The Ordinary Boys. The first two are sold out. Does anyone want to come and see The Ordinary Boys with me? Please? Katerina & Louise don't seem very bothered.

Anyway, whatever happens it won't be too bad. There'll be cake. And laughter.
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