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School's definitely a bore. A horrific bore. I have never had so much dry reading in one class before, how the hell is anyone supposed to do this without becoming slightly suicidal? Sorry, you know, in case that was insensitive to anyone reading this.

But really?!

I AM OUT OF THE HOSPITAL! I'M ALIVE! I'VE NEVER BEEN HAPPIER TO BE SO IN MY LIFE! I'M GOING TO DROP OUT OF SCHOOL, AND PLAY ROCK MUSIC EVERY SINGLE DAY!

Alright, I finally am free for a date with a specific someone--she knows who she is. I require this date to now be set in motion!

It has been a very, very good week.

So! Now that people aren't looking like smurfs anymore, Always will be returning to our regular business hours this week! We'll be hosting a special celebration night later in the month when everyone can come and dance the night away and enjoy amazing blended drinks with umbrellas if you'd like to wait, but if you don't mind a nominal cover charge before then, we have some amazingly fun activities planned and need to make the most of our January events before we swap over, thought eighties night will of course be the same as ever.

We WILL however, be having a special night for medical personel this Friday. Sexiest doctor, nurse and paramedic contest with first and second place winners of both genders in either category. Your mystery prize has an actual cash value and is designed to make you feel appreciated in all that you do. Admission Friday is also free for medical personnel with valid IDS, and the first drink on the house.

It isn't much and kind of stupid, but it's what we'd like to do to at least say thank you in our own, slightly twisted way.

To the citizens of Orange County and the surrounding areas:

For those of you who are interested in music, really interested, I am offering voice lessons. My rates are as follows:

Sixty dollars an hour ($60/hr) for private lessons
Seventy five dollars an hour ($75/hr) for advanced techniques (ie: anything in the range of operatic)
Seventy five dollars an hour ($75/hr) for piano and/or organ lessons

And because I feel like amusing myself:
One hundred dollars an hour ($100/hr) for ventriloquism and voice throwing lessons.

Please contact me here or via private message.

Yours sincerely,
E.G.

I really thought I was over the anxiety and panic attacks. Apparently not. I do not feel like I am plunging into a pit of despair, but I am a little annoyed with myself for how I reacted to the flu.

Also, I think I am getting shorter.

My father still wants me to wait at least a week before returning to school, even though classes have resumed. He doesn't trust that this epidemic has finally passed. So I guess that means I'll be at least a week behind starting the new semester.

Is there a way to make text sound bitter? Because I am really angry right now. I'm so... PISSED.

The shop's not open either. So I am essentially stuck in my room with literally nowhere to go, nothing to do. I haven't felt the sun in weeks. Dad won't even let me open a window.

Got mugged last night. Saved by an amazing woman who walks through walls in a mask.

Anyway, that's where the shiner came from. Dad's in a right state. Doesn't want me leaving the house. I told him I'm going back home for school tomorrow, but he doesn't want me leaving.

Inspiration used to come so easily, before X-Factor. Before I had teams of people improving upon things I'd written. Before I started sticking a needle in my arm on a regular basis, because I thought it made me more creative. I'm pretty sure the heroin warped my brain. All I want is to write a bloody song. To get back on stage.

[Private to Ginny Weasley]
You don't know me, although you may have heard of me, but my name is John Mitchell and I spoke to your brother Percy some weeks ago, before the flu outbreak and he told me you were in the industry. I know the TV and music are different, but I'm looking to revive my career and I need to find a new manager; problem is, I technically don't know how to go about it, because my last manager sought me out.

Anybody know how to file for emancipated minor status? I turn eighteen soon, but still. I want to see if it's even possible.

Yes, I have my reasons.

Weird question. Ever consider kids?

(also, any news on those tests? Yours and mine?)

I'm in so much pain. Now that the gym is open again, my dad had me up before the crack of dawn to make up for the training I missed out on during the flu outbreak. I've been training for the last fourteen hours, almost, non-stop. I just spent the last half hour soaking in an ice bath and it made no difference. Even my coach thought my dad was pushing me too hard and he's one of those Russian coaches who usually don't know what too much is. I just wish this would end. I don't want to quit gymnastics, but I don't want to be forced to train this hard. It's not fun anymore.

There's nothing wrong with being content in the ensemble, is there?

My professors are urging me to strive for lead roles, or at least supporting ones... But the background roles are equally important, I think.

Sorry, maybe it's because I'm nervous about this weekend's audition...

Now that I am all better, I can resume my quest for the perfect donut. And getting laid. And getting a real boyfriend.

You've been warned.

Is it a rule that dreams involving the Doctor just get stranger and stranger? Last night, we were in Victorian London, fighting a war criminal from the 51st century.

Felt a little like a Hammer Horror film.

I am tipsy and demand that someonee take me to kareaokee

kareaaoke

to sing in public in a very terrible way

I can't drive so someone has to get me

or else it's sad singing alone by myself.

Back to school again today. It seems we're all feeling the same about it - not at all pleased. Can't say I blame any of us. Zoned out more than usual during musical literature of the 18th century, mind wandering to a dream I feel was too short to be properly enjoyed.

Dreamt about a dream within dream. Or it felt like it, anyway. I was writing a letter, and recalling a dream that dream-me had experienced (I hope that makes sense). I looked quite charming, actually, perhaps '30s or '40s, judging by the fashion. Saw myself in a room full of porcelain and china, and began to smash the delicate pieces on to the floor and into walls. Someone else was with me, but out of sight. Infuriating. The best part of all is that as the things broke and shattered, it wasn't the sound of chaos, but of beautiful music that I'd never heard before. Saw myself writing in my letter that all boundaries are conventions, and I wonder, perhaps, if this is my subconscious dwelling on my feelings about school entirely. Ought to be composing things, not sitting in classrooms.

Rushed home immediately to find paper with which to try and write down the piece, hoping to preserve it. In my search for blank paper, I happened upon a rather old looking book (I hesitate to say an original, but it's in poor state). "The Pacific Journal Of Adam Ewing" it's called - has anyone ever read it? The back appears to be torn off but the print is legible. Taking a break from my writing frenzy to see what sort of man this Mr. Ewing was.

PS. Looking to make some extra money this semester to save up for a car. I've decided to make myself available for piano lessons/theory tutoring, and hopefully count it towards credits for school. Fine with holding them at my own home, or traveling to my student's (mileage will be included in the price of lessons). In any case, I could really use something to occupy my time.