April 12, 1999.

Spent all morning writing an essay on 18th century fiction - specifically, the way that two female characters make space for themselves in a restrictive society before and after rape. I don't want to think about women's issues for a long long time. I didn't even stop to make food. Instead I ordered 3 Amato slices in order to cover the delivery charge. It's one of the goofiest things I've ever done. It also may have been a tactical error to order three slices of the same kind. Oh well.

In consequence of my morning labours, I handed in the last piece of work to complete my English Specialist degree not two hours ago. And despite the enormity of my achievement (in my eyes, at least), no one seems to care. Okay, that's an exaggeration. Guy cared when I told him, and so did Gomer & Jesse (these last two I found hanging around the Skanktuary setting up tonight's RPG). But Scherezade, my mother and St. Jack were totally not interested. Is everyone in a bad mood today, or am I just not as hot as I thought I was?

Nah.

Acting upon a suggestion from Mike, I've decided to set up a diary-related mailing list in the next week. I don't so much feel that there are a lot of issues I raise that need to be discussed - so much of what's in here is very shallow - but with my nomad life kicking in at the end of the month, I may not be able to upload for days or weeks or months at a time. And if that happens, I don't want you worrying about me. So when it becomes time to sign up, I'll let you know, okay?

Okay.

So.

I'm done.

Now what?