"Every Silver Lining Has a Touch of Grey..."

Whee, I'm exhausted!

(But you can't be! The evening's just started!)

Whirl, I'm feeling rather incredibly giddy which is rather incredibly silly, since I've been up till one many, many times in the past, but, Oh! We just got home ten minutes ago! Oh!

(The only thing I remember about prom night in May was that I got home at three o'clock and was in hysterics and screaming and crying because I still had two hours of treadmilling left to do, and Mum wouldn't let me; she had to force me into bed. Right now I am thinking I might skip treadmilling to-morrow, despite the fact that I have to-day's two hours to make up on top of to-morrow's two hours, merely because I'm exhausted. So in that respect I've either gotten better (or lazier).)

I--

Oh! It wasn't La Sonnambula after all, you know; it was La Traviata.

(Poor Alfredo--! but, you know (it's Westmark's fault), I felt so sorry for Giorgio Germont. Mum couldn't believe it. I felt so sorry for him.)

(I would have liked to have been Annina. <3 Oh.)

The music is glorious.

Oh, la...! I feel quite mad, and quite exhausted. It can't possibly be one o'clock. I can get up at either seven to-morrow or ten, which should I choose? If I get up at seven, I can get half my exercises done; if ten, I have to wait and do all four hours after three o'clock when I get home from Scum Club. I promised Linda I'd go to work Thursday Night. I'm all out of time any more.

I forgot how easy it is to get back into this pattern (very easy to realise that there are more things to do than there are hours to sleep, and one makes sacrifices accordingly).

Miss Zara, my mother says I can come visit you if I promise to 'dress like a normal person'. I imagine that means no skirts. She said she'd buy me a pair of trousers if that's what it took. La, that's an easy promise to make, isn't it, a pair of trousers? I haven't worn one in months.

Danse, danser.

No stars to-night.

There's so much to do to-morrow, and so much to do Friday, and heaven there's the world to do Saturday. I don't know what Sunday is, but Monday's another catastrophe. The new piano is coming, I have work, Waen's got her Hallowe'en party, there's Curves to fit in, there's (when am I ever going to finish my Hallowe'en costume? It's such a nuisance that it always involves sewing) oh!

La!

Dizzy giddy dizzy whirl. They used mirrors and cloths for all the scenery in La Traviata. Alfredo was such a puppy, poor thing, and how everyone shouted at him when he threw the money at Violetta. (But Annina was the best role.)

I have too many letters I haven't written, and I must memorise addresses better. Three and two, honestly. Ridiculous numbers to get mixed.

Waen knows the lyrics to the Grateful Dead songs better than I do. I made her a copy and she's listened to nothing but while she's painting the doors. She almost done painting the doors--

I'm moving out of my room. Six blankets yesterday, nightdress and sweater, socks, and I couldn't sleep for shivering; it's too much. I am such a pathetic cold little thing, terribly--

We’ll just dance!
We’ll kick up our heels to music and dance!
Until my head reels with music.
Just like a lovely real romance

All we'll do is just dance!
All we'll do is just dance!
All we'll do is just


d
a
n
s
e
...!

"And They Say, 'Coo, Pass the Jam, Please...'"

...Last night's post. Ahaha. ^_^;;;; So tired.

I changed rooms last night, and slept decently for the first time in two weeks. 'Decently', unfortunately, happens to mean 'until ten o'clock', so I am horrifyingly behind on my schoolwork and still with Scum Club and &c. Presumably I shall still have work to do when I get home, and also I must fit my (at least three hours of) treadmilling in somewhere or other.

But. I cannot wait to go to work to-morrow.

^____^ I didn't write this last night, because I was behaving as though I were somewhat drunk, but. Daniel.

Daniel's out of bed, and when I met him in the hall yesterday he smiled at me, and I asked him if he remembered who I was (playfully; because it's been so long) and he laughed, very softly mind, and said, 'You're my girl'.

I am so impossibly unutterably inconceivably happy. Daniel's getting better.

And now, I'd better go do my Latin. I keep smiling as wide as I can, though, just out of no where (so silly). I'll be sitting at the table and all of a sudden '...^__________________________________^ DANIEL'. It's terrible (no, it's not).

(Miss Kylee! I love you!)

(and, and, and, I love you)