(makes a contented noise)

today was a couch day. you know, one of those days when you vegetate in front of the telly under your duvet with an assortment of food on the coffee table and just never get up. granted, most of my days are a bit like that since i'm unemployed, but today was sunny and cheerful outside and i chose to be indoors. so that makes it a couch day.

why was it a couch day, you ask (it doesn't matter if you didn't, i'm telling the story here). well, i had a story to finish, flats to look for, an editorial internship to read up on, and i was wallowing in glorious solitude since i lose sole ownership of the flat with The Flatmate returning tomorrow (which means his woman does as well, they're like one of those two-for-the-price-of-one offers).

then i saw that skype had this whole 60 minutes to ireland at the fabulous price of 60p a month so i had to get that. then went and promptly spent all said minutes on one hyper phonecall to liz (chain-smoking, fabulously eccentric friend). i reckon it's going to go on one one call next month as well. i tend to talk a lot.

a writing day begins

'your whole career will be modified, shaped and molded by your surroundings' - orison swett marden

well, a quick overview of my surroundings gives me:

a wooden clothes peg

half a pair of scissors

four wads of thoroughly crushed paper

a piece of my laptop charger

three pens in various stages of working order

a pair of striped knickers

an empty pack of smokes

a pink post-it that says 'body near the river?'

a saltshaker (don't ask)

'you can tell a lot about a man by the way he eats jelly beans' - ronald regan

now there's a quote that makes more sense.

a new book and a quickly diminishing pack of jelly beans

apparently rose wasn't done! i got a copy of 'i heart new york' in the mail today! i did a little hop, skip and jump with the appropriate sound effects on the stairs up to the flat and ignored the builders gawping at me. another book! ever since i was abruptly told that i had to move (no, i'm never going to let that go), i've wanted to collect a truckload of books. i have this mental image of my new place that has no furniture but piles and piles of books everywhere. it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

ooooh The Brother just popped up online to tell me that he now has a girlfriend (as of twenty minutes ago). that kid does rather well for himself, i must say. this is the third girl he's been entangled with this year (none of them were very serious, he is related to me after all) but now it looks like he's settled down for a bit. aw. sometimes i have to agree that he's the more mature one.

man, i'm tired. the real estate people are sending someone over to have a look at the place tomorrow since we're moving out, so i did a quick tidy up and got rid of all the bottles and tins from the bucket on top of the fridge. the flat looks nice and classy now.

also, note to self: don't eat buttered popcorn and coconut jelly beans together.

:D

i start a two week editorial internship at random house on tuesday! lordy, just saying that makes me smile. they rang me yesterday and i was so flabbergasted that i ended up sounding fairly half-witted on the telephone. i also used the word 'fantastic' several times. and oooh-ed. it's a wonder they still want me, really.

then, to top things off, someone else from random house (yes, i'm going to say 'random house' a lot in this post, it makes me feel fabulous) rang me today and said something about another internship starting next week. turns out, my CV got sent to both the marketing and editorial departments and for some (very inexplicable) reason, they both fancied having me. i asked if i could have the editorial one, she said yes and i'm meant to get an email confirming it, but i haven't. so my head is playing out various scenarios which inevitably end with me not getting either internship. and eating lots of jelly beans to recuperate.

oooh yes, the jelly beans. my gloriously delightful friend rose sent me a box (i am currently sampling a toasted marshmallow one) for apparently no other reason than to make me happy. when i snag and marry someone very (very) high up at random house, she's getting all the free books she can accommodate. that's assuming i still have an internship to start things off with.

well now comes the fun part. re-reading my CV and educating myself to an extent that allows me to be passably good at all the things on it.

and ooooooh a strawberry daiquiri jelly bean. yum.

plot points, chicken and boys

i read this article somewhere online today (that i cannot for the life of me find again) that gives you a list of things you need to do when working on your novel. one of the them was to make flashcards with plot points, then lay them out and mix them up to see how best to arrange the chronology of your plot. i really need to do that. i keep mixing my timelines up. well, not just the timelines. the people, the murders, the order of the deaths and (sufficient to say, everything) also tend to repeat details and descriptions sometimes. what can i say, i have a short attention span.

so flashcards this week then. ooh The (soon to be ex) Flatmate is headed to glastonbury for a bit so i get a prequel to life without him and his woman. OH THE JOY. i can't decide whether to get stoned and wave half-eaten chicken strips at lovely men in random chick flicks or get stoned and wave half-eaten chicken strips at lovely men in random chick flicks. decisions.

oh and for the groan-worthy thing of the day, the previously mentioned kiwi i did shots with over the weekend apparently wants my number. now generally a boy with a reasonably good taste in music wanting one's number is never a bad thing, but i have the worst possible track record with men from that part of the world. and that's putting it mildly. what's that you say? give this one a chance? ha. that's what i said about the last three and look at where that got me (look at my to-do list! look!). groan.

i haven't replied to our mutual friend's text yet. this could get awkward. i need to figure out how to phrase "i'm sorry, i don't date guys from there" nicely. maybe lots of smiley faces? or that could just make me look like i've lost my marbles.

life's always fun on planet manisha.

here comes the sun

after a dreary, depressed and damp-eyed morning, my head decided to do a complete turnaround and be inexplicably cheerful. so what if i end up on the street with debts? so what if they throw me in jail for not being able to pay council tax? so what if my flatmate and friend for the last two years suddenly decided that it's perfectly okay to fuck me over? so what if no one ever hires me and i end up eating stale bread until i start to look like one of those kids in those adverts that ask you to send food and water to africa? so what? as long as i have my charming personality and winning smile, i'll be just dandy. even whilst starving to death.

note: i just realized that they don't ask you to send food to africa, they ask for a donation. food would make a lot more sense, though.

well i just sent a dozen job applications out, each one extolling my nonexistent virtues (while making my way through half a bag of doritos). if one were to go by my CV, i am quiiiite the catch. excellent at doing a number of things (bullshitting, primarily) and with a deep and abiding interest in whatever the particular job requires. if i ever get called for interview, i have a lot of reading up to do. and i should probably figure out how to use quarkxpress, since i'm apparently 'very proficient' at it.

ooooh i also received a lovely little package in the mail. i won a flash fiction competition a week or two ago that was run by http://www.writersgifts.co.uk/, and they sent me a little goodie bag wrapped in purple tissue. i squawked most undignifiedly when i saw it. purple tissue. these people are evidently divine.

my camera (like most other things around me at the moment) has decided to be mean and nasty, so i'm going to make do with the webcam. ta-daaa! presents!

now if someone could send me a new place to live tomorrow, that'd be fabulous.

hangover sunday

overheard at a party last night-

slurring leather-jacketed guy: god, you're gorgeous.

drunk blonde: yeah, i know right.

oooh but it was a pretty fabulous evening. after The Flatmate's abrupt and very considerate announcement, alcohol was definitely needed. i ended up doing shots of something scandinavian (that tasted like a spice rack exploded in it) out of teacups under the kitchen table with this kiwi guy. yes. apparently i just don't learn. he'd seen mogwai AND sigur ros live, though. that has to count for something.

other fun people:

the guy whose (now ex) fiancee got drunk and punched him in the jaw at their pre-wedding barbecue.

the guy who writes theatre reviews but never actually watches any of the shows.

the tea company employee (i've used the word 'guy' four times already, meh) who is writing a screenplay about "this man who is better than everyone in the entire world. at absolutely everything."

oooh i even managed to scribble out an idea for a story during the hour-long tube ride. manisha shines on as being a responsible adult.

why hello there, thunderclouds

well The Flatmate just announced that he can't afford this place anymore and is moving in with his woman. nicely done, thanks a bunch.

so now my to-do list has stretched out to include:

looking for a flat by myself

dealing with real estate agents again

moving my stuff

trying to afford all of the above

oh and slitting my wrists

actually scratch that. i'm heading out in the rain to get me some ice-cream whilst plotting retribution. there's something delightfully poetic about that.

at the starting line

okay. a writer needs a blog, they say. it helps you let some steam out, it helps you get used to writing all the time, and (most importantly, though no one wants to admit it) it helps when you get published and people want to read all about you and your quirky isms. nevermind the fact that you've had 2562 posts sitting there uncommented on and lonesome over the past twenty years.

oh i've blogged before, and it's never really bothered me whether i'm 'read' or not. i just like the way the words look onscreen. and anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that i can ramble on for ages at the slightest provocation. see, i was an only child for five years and used to talk to myself a fair bit (and if you're to believe The Flatmate, i still do it.. but more on that specimen of nature later) so rattling away comes easily. the thing is knowing when to stop (which i appear to be doing an exceptional job at).

right, to sound more writerly (go away squiggly red line, i'm deeming that a word) i'm going to throw in a word count for today. oooh, i think i ought to do that everyday. might help with motivation and all that hoo-ha. i tried doing that once, and ended up with a confusing heap of coloured post-its with random numbers scrawled on them. they looked so pretty though, so i ended up sticking them on my wall to brighten up my room. i also ended up confusing myself with one rather lovely scottish bloke who used to live in a hatch on an island that no one knew existed. I'll see you in another life, brother.

but where was i? word count, yes. well, i appear to have written the grand total of 1152 words today. not a lot considering the fact that it's all i've been doing, but i sort of started on something new (she says mysteriously) and i can't seem to figure out what genre it is. wait, scratch that. it isn't my fault. the dratted thing can't seem to decide whether it's dark comedy or vaguely children's fiction-ish. i don't know, kids seem to read a lot of crap these days. it could swing either way.

aww, i now have a sudden urge to read heaps of enid blyton. hello amazon, here i come. oooh or the lovely old shop down the road that has first editions and secondhand books from the 50's and 60's. dammit, i wish i had some money.