"You Can Take Me Hat or Me Bumbershoo..."

I've finished Jane Eyre. Please ignore my last entry regarding said book. *is reproachful* Mum lied to me.

We got two letters to-day! One to Horatio, from Hamlet, and one to Pencroff and N., from Harbert and A.! N. won't let me open his yet, because he thinks it imperative that I finish taking down his reply to A.'s first letter before we read the new one, which is I suppose fair, particularly as it ensures for him that I'll probably finally finish with it.

Have at last gotten my site updated. O_o I left it alone for an age, and there's a horrible number of things to go up. It's sad, though, because most of it's old things. I'm not a good writer right now.

What else? There was something else I wanted to say.

In a moment I shall go eat breakfast... I forgot this morning. O_o I think I slept five and a half hours last night, although I also did that the night before, and the night before that, so it's not exactly breaking news.

All my Sewanee books are here, so from now on until they're done, I can't take requests for books to be read, I can't read anything but them, so everything else is postponed. Those to whom I still owe unread books, my sincere apologies.

It's swelteringly hot here. I took off my flannel blankets and my quilts from my bed finally; but it really seems as though we've gone right from deadliest freezing winter into scorching and murderous summer. I wonder if the Liverpool pool will open early this year. It's so hot that I've put my hair up and am wearing it under my Courfeyrac cap, so that if I put on my moustache, I'd look like Nanni's icon of Wilfred Owen.

That was very silly, wasn't it?

I'm hungry.

"We're Going Out of Our Minds To-night..."

PSA: Soujins don't like zucchini. They love lots of veggibles, like carrots (er--in moderation) and broccoli and cauliflower and wax beans and snow peas and spinach and lovely things like that, but they don't like zucchini. Feed it to them, and they'll do something funny, like mutating and multiplying.

And that would be disappointing, because it is my personal feeling that gremlins aren't as nice as Soujins. I could be wrong, though.

I've just been outside the last couple of hours in the sun by the pasture, writing out letters. I got N.'s all down, and Pencroff's, and so N. let me read A.'s second letter and I am melted gah, and then I started with N.'s third letter, but now I must leave my beautiful warm spot of love to go and face acting. Bah.

I love my Wilfred Owen hat. Thanks to Nanni, it has changed loyalties, and can no longer be the Courfeyrac cap. Poor thing. Well, of course Soujins are also fanciful idiots. What did you expect, really?

Life is very difficult and trying.

And pretty.

"I'm Still Yours..."

To-night I am ill and hungry and my cast makes me cry.

Because they are uncommitted, refuse to take things seriously, haven't learnt their lines, and drive me mad. We haven't ever run through the entire play. We haven't even run through every scene yet. Our first performance is next Friday. We have four rehearsals left.

We can't do this.

*buries face in arms and cries* Remind me never ever to be in a play again. This happens every God-damn year. I don't have the emotional energy to deal with it any longer.

And Mum doesn't listen to me. Every time I want to talk to her--well, the only time she's actually around (because she works so much) is when she's driving me somewhere, and she always brings Waen along, and they always talk about cars the whole time, and nobody listens to me because I don't know anything about cars.

I am so tired. And so hungry. And I need to cry, and I need somebody to be there while I'm crying, and nobody is, because everyone's always busy. I'm not angry with anybody. It's hard to keep up a farm, and be a nurse, and--do what things Waen does, like have time and get to be outside and ride her horses and sleep for a long time--I'm not angry with anybody but me, because I'm a supercilious little twit. All I do is criticise people.

What I need is really not to cry, but to be hit across the face very hard, so that I stop being so concerned with myself all the time. I'm trying not to be selfish, and I'm failing horribly. It's not all about me. All I do is complain, and worry about myself, and do bad things to myself that make everybody upset, and that's not how it's supposed to be. I want to love people properly, and I can't because I hurt people.