This year is gonna be GOOD! I am gonna do everything possible to behave myself this year and I WILL avoid the monumental fuck ups of 2005. I CAN extricate myself from my self-inflicted tangles...Start as you mean to go on...I can do it!!

Hmm... surely I should be feeling the righteous glow of all these empowering self-affirmations by now? Nope, because it's only lunchtime on New Year's Day, and already I've successful locked all four of us and the ferret out of Vic's flat, terrified Andrew, stressed out Vic and royally pissed off Carl. sigh... get a grip Bel.

Back home to a freezing house, a flooded sauna and reality reasserting itself in that horribly blunt way it tends to. Terrifying bank statements and unpleasant emails from the evil sociology department reminding me I have that summative-100%-of-the-module-but-otherwise-pointless statistics project to hand in soon. Hooligan is so pleased to be home he immediately sets about destroying the living room. Not cute. I ignore the malevolent house and begin to fry my hair in peroxide again. Everything seems to have gone wrong since I dyed my hair purple last summer, so if I go back to red, things should improve!! Obviously!!

I paid myself today!! Took some serious money with Cyberllama last month, so I'm revelling in the fact I actually made something out of this insane project. Carl is so supportive about all this. I just wish everyone else was... yes Mother, I'm talking to you. This is not a joke anymore, please take me seriously. Quit with the comments about getting a real job. Please. I'm nervous, it's a hell of a lot to take on given I have zero experience in running a business. But I'm as stubborn as you and I cannot give up on this yet!

Aaaargh. More news on the SPARC situation - there was me thinking the end was in sight, but no. The third non-existent letter has apparently stated that my claims were investigated (Who did they actually talk to? Not me, not Sal, no-one who actually knew was what going on!) and found to be unsubstantiated. How convenient!! I am not going to rise to this. This is no longer professional, its just slimy lies, mind games, and it's designed to drag out the whole process and thoroughly piss me off so that I give up. Sorry mate, NOT GONNA HAPPEN. Wrong girl!!

Roll on the menopause! I'm so hormonally screwed it embarrassing. Everything is at extremes today, I'm so horny I think I've broken my duck (a story too long for 100words). Saw Les and no doubt acted very weird around him, since for no fathomable reason, I got ridiculously paranoid and jealous at him, totally unprovoked. Got a really happy email from Hannah saying thanks to her lovely friend for her unexpected Christmas present, and it made me cry cos I miss her so much it hurts. I just wish I'd worked out what I felt before she left.... Aaarrrgh+ cry.

Random anthropology related mental query: I am studying people who think they are vampires. A vampire is not a human. In fact, these vampires are essentially (whether consciously or not) denying there humanity by breaking very many traditional human taboos - drinking blood is equivalent to cannibalism, one creature is feeding off another to further its own existence. Anthropology, however, is the study of humankind. So, am I actually doing anthropology? Would the study of the inhuman, be "inanthropology-? Is it ok to just invent new terminology?? After all, if I were studying werewolves, I'd be doing Lycanthropology!! (sorry, couldn't resist!)

I have also decided that anthropology is inherently vampiric anyway. That can only be a good thing. Blood-drinking aside, vampires feed off the life force of others, in order to survive. As anthropologists, we feed off the life stories of our victims/informants in order to maintain the lifestyle of academia that we prefer to pursue. And inevitably, we drain our informants dry, and give nothing back in return. We are truly carnivorous in this respect, the predators of the social sciences. Replace the fangs with notebooks and Dictaphones, and the simile is perfect. My, my, how horribly post-modern of me.

Oh dear. We've got Friends For Life. Two small girls from down the round saw me taking Hooligan for a walk on the lead. Cue cries of "That is MENTAL!""Is that a ferret?""That's soooooo cool!"and finally, most interestingly, "We've got one of them-. Their "one of them"is called Rainbow, and is a small Albino female. They are all scared of her, and don't let her out to play cos she bites. Ironically, she bites because she's bored and isn't allowed out of her cage. But she is cute. A potential shag for our horny teenager anyway.

I have met a highly interesting person. Well, when I say met, I mean, exchanged a few emails with. I needed a book for my vampire project - Kathryn Ramsland's "Piercing the Darkness-. I found it on Ebay; some woman was selling it because she has a lot of copies of the book, reason being: she's in it!! She was a vampire role player and got interviewed by Ramsland. She even signed the book for me. Weirder still, she's now renounced vampirism and returned to her church - she's actually an Amish Mennonite! How exactly do you marry the two, I wonder?

The vampiric obsession continues, and Carl got dragged reluctantly to see Underworld: Evolution. "The battle between werewolves and vampires continues-.... Well, possibly, but that basically encapsulates the entire plot without having to sit through the hour and a half of cinematic bowel movement. Consider yourselves lucky, dear reader, that I have now spared you this fate.
Kate Beckinsale in a PVC catsuit - that is the only good part of the film.
Plot: added in as an afterthought,
Script: less than three pages long, I would imagine.
Continuity: laughable,
Acting talent: invisible to the untrained eye. Invisible to the trained eye

A little nervous about today, but here I am, supposedly working is Les's groovey shop. Aside from the fact he's not here to muck about with, its still cool. Well, actually, its bloody freezing. Lots of funky things to play with though. And I got to learn the difference between 0.2 and a 0.6, what a lebrett is (body jewellery, not, as I thought, a baby hare) and the deep and meaningful healing qualitites of various crystals. Alas my "its a rock, get over it" sales pitch probably wouldn't go down very well here, which is about the only downside.

What really defines a Goth? Something I'm going to have to tackle in my thesis. Being ‘Goth' requires a strict dress code - head-to-toe black (unless you include "ironic"acid pink), big boots, silver jewellery adorned with suitably occult and "dark"symbols, and lots of heavy black eyeliner. It is a look that actually suits me, even though I much prefer dressing colourfully and cheerfully. I love the boots, and I have long, blood red, dead straight hair, which fits in well. But I think I am genetically incapable of putting on eyeliner properly. Whenever I try I just look hungover.

We really do have a two-year-old running round the house. All the neighbours hear through the walls are "where's the f***ing ferret??!""Get out of there you silly idiot!!"and "ow ow OW! Gerroff you little bastard!"Hooligan will not learn. He has the obnoxious tendency of thinking that if we stop him doing something, whatever it is must be REALLY interesting, and worth trying again. Hiding from us when we want to go out is also a really good game. If we tell him off, he just looks cute and all is forgiven. We're wrapped around his little pink paw!

I'm stuck this month. I really am incapable of thinking up things to write. I want to, I feel the need to, since I was so lazy with this last year. Its only January and already my enthusiasm is sapping. I guess its cos its cold and grey and miserable, and my days are long and boring and uneventful, I don't really think anything is worth writing about. But something makes me persist. Nice people say they like my writing style, that I make them laugh. It's a nice ego boost to think I am entertaining my fans... cough, splutter.

I'm a guest author on Bel's 100 words. So I feel I should chronicle this weekend. Good things at Bels: yummy curries and roast dinners, pear cider, cute ferret, nice sauna (but not naked for me yet!), nice sauna leaving kinks in my hair (will attempt plaiting next time, see what the results are), too many lovely CyberLlama items; debating over purple or green scarves! Bad things: only the ferret making me spill hot tea all over my groin. Minor point though so all is forgiven. Looking forward to attending MA anthropology tutorial tomorrow despite no knowledge of the subject......

I am seriously wondering whether I could sue the Sociology department for the harm they're inflicting on my marriage. Concentrating so hard on this stats project does nothing for our sex life. Carl goes to bed with his head full of chi-squares, and talks about nothing but Anova. Anova must be his Russian lover. It sickens me to think of all the co-varience they must be sharing... He wants a three-way with her. She needs a t-test apparently! He can keep his statistical exploration to himself. Can't wait til this module is over. I want my husband back!!

I LIKE sex.
I REALLY like sex.

um.
Now I don;t know what to say for the other 93 words of this entry. Thats the sort of conclusion that tends to stop the thought train dead. I am supposed to be diligently working on my stall today, putting all my energy and mental commitment into my sales pitch to persuade hapless innocents into parting with their hard earnt dole money. But, darling, its just not happening for me. Especially not when my brain is thinking far more unwholesome thiughts. About being kissed, tickled, nibbled and .... mmmmm.....

and now I've gone tingly again.

Feel sick, scared, hysterical, cannot cope any more. Feel like I'm totally losing the plot and I just do not know what to do. Guess what? A letter says not only are SPARC now denying any wrong-doing whatsoever, they've now accused me of more fictitious crimes and are demanding nearly £2000 back off me. The sensible part of my brain says its just scare-tactics, but its fucking working then! I can't pay that, I can't afford anything at the moment. I don't understand what I've done to deserve this, and I cannot see a way out and I'm terrified.

People are fascinating me today. Stupid things, really. Like the fact that Carl is so deeply engraved on the inside of my head that I go very strange just spending one short night without him - couldn't sleep, hate the big empty bed. Like the fact that Trudi at work is so complex, bi-polar, and seems so resigned to everything - it sounds like a very weird mindset to be in. Like the fact I can reduce a bloke twice my age to sounding like a pathetic teenager just by remaining resolutely sober when he blatently wasn't. An odd day, really.

Mum's birthday today. I rang her up from the market stall, since I was hardly rushed off my feet. Spent most of the conversation moaning about the astounding displays of intelligence proffered from the inhabitants of Darlington.

"Are you a Goth?"
"Not really."
"So where do all these come from then?"
"Peru"
"Maroo?"
"Peru - in South America"
(notices flag)"I thought that was Spanish"
"No, the Spanish one is red and yellow. But they do speak Spanish there."
"Yeah it must be a Spanishy sort of place...." (wanders off)

Wonderful thing, intellectual snobbery. I take after my mother so much.

Oh who am I kidding?! I just can't do this. Cyberllama is not going to survive, I neither have the experience or know-how to run a business, nor the enthusiasm to learn. Its hopeless standing here like this. I can't deal with this situation with SPARC either, I can't cope with court cases and tribunals and everything getting dragged up over and over again. I can't even cope with adult relationships, everytime I get in this state I get all self-destructive and end up either arguing with, or worrying Carl severely. But what else can I do at the moment?

Totally unpredictable. Usually, I LIKE things to be unpredictable, otherwise I get bored. After the disaster that was yesterday ("Saturday'll be the busiest day of the week, I bet"), and having drunk away all my "profit", I was preparing myself for another day entranced in a vegetative mental state on the stall in a deserted shopping centre. Well, it was certainly quiet. But the four people who did actually come visit me, spent a LOT of money. For no fathomable reason, I took more today than on any other day this week. So we celebrated by doing absolutely nothing at home. *happy grin*

Back to uni - FINALLY. Its been soooooo long!!! I love Christmas, but having nearly six weeks holiday is just silly. My brain's been melting through lack of use. So, we were eventually all ensconced in the freezing cold seminar room, listening to Becky talk about fair trade co-operatives in China and theories of anthropology in development... I don't know if it was just because we were pleased to be back, but we started floating some ambitious ideas around - such as starting a fairtrade shop in the department? with stock from Peru, Papua New Guinea, India, Nepal, China..... (eyes light up!)

I am a damn good teacher. Its scary. That is not exactly a modest statement, and I really don't like the idea of it either, but it seems to be true. I enjoy teaching, but I still do not want to BE a teacher. But enjoying it, being vaguely good at it and it being practically hereditary means I am predisposed to wander in that professional direction. Eek. Today saw my first tutoral of the term, and I got my group of unsuspecting first years debating, and actually understanding highly complex anthropological theories that even I don't understand fully. Impressive!

I am in York. I ran away. Nothing else much to do today, so I tried to get as far away as a £20 return ticket would get me. For £13.70, I got to York, and pottered about doing nothing much. Of all the unlikely places, I went to church! Well, a church that had a fairtrade cafe. I sat there nibbling my vegetarian, fairtrade, wholegrain, GM-free cous-cous and sipping my organic, additive-free ginger and lemon drink from a recycled cardboard carton, while the good Christians of York righteously fussed around me, slightly peturbed by my head-to-toe black vampire outfit.

I know this is bad. This is possibly the worst, most stupid thing ever, but.... I dunno. Its addictive. It feels great. Its pure escapism, an opportunity to forget who I am and where I am and what I'm supposed to be doing for a while. It does my ego a lot of good, at least until I remember that in the real world, it could do me a lot of harm. The thing is, I can't always stay this cool, calm and collected, I can't stay detached, objective. I always get far too emotionally involved. And that makes me so vunerable I'm frightened.

Went to a gig tonight, for the first time in aaaaaaaaaages. Local band, its amazing who you can find over the internet! ROTF, that is, Rebels Of The Flesh, or possibly Rolling On The Floor. Music was pretty good, if not particularly unusual. I spent most of the night gazing enviously at their huge platform boots. Yes. Boots. Thats exactly what I was drooling at. Obviously. The support band were... interesting. Did a passable Green Day cover, but its very difficult to take seriously a 14 year-old girl screeching "I'm not part of the redneck agenda" in a Darlo accent...!

A very nicely ironic piece in the Metro today. "Tough day ahead? Then just have sex"runs the headline. All about how having "full penetrative sex"actually helps your concentration levels, decreases stress and lowers blood pressure. It's supposed to be to do with the happy hormone that gets released when you have sex with a "loving partner"- not just the orgasm, it's the bonding thing that you don't get from masturbation or ducks. But what about quickies and one-night stands? Could you potentially sue a partner for not shagging you and therefore disadvantaging you in a highly competitive workplace?

I hate adverts. No, really I do. They are so dumb.

"8 out of ten women feel let down by their sanitary towel-

Yeah, that happens so often. It tells me its gonna be home by 10pm and then stays out late, never calls to say where it is... It forgets my birthday, then buys me cheap flowers as if that cures everything. When I first bought it, I felt that this one was different, I expected so much from it, but it turned out just like all the others.. yes, I am disappointed, it did let me down..... ahem!

Tis me birfdi soon. I am going to be OLD. Phil at the pub helpfully informed me that he thought I was about 28, not nearly 23. It's the grey hairs and world-weary cynicism I think. So when I am 28 I'm gonna look mid-thirties - great! Can't wait! I got revenge by admitting my first impressions of him though. Someone else mentioned something about his ex-girlfriend. Girlfriend?? This surprised me. I honestly, genuinely, without a hint of flippancy, thought he was gay. This caused offence - mainly, I think, because I wouldn't have been the only person to say that. Heehee.

The last day of the month, time to look back over the past few weeks and worry. In the entirety of January, I took a grand total of £242.50 with Cyberllama. This is really quite shit. Out of that, I have to take out £100 for the market stall leases, and I need about £220 to pay my share of the mortgage this month. Not only is that a loss anyway, it means that I've got absolutely nothing to show for the loooooong sllooooooow hours I've spent on aching feet, freezing to death and bored to tears on the stalls. *sigh*.