my diary

I do have a diary, you know. I decided that I would write in it every day, an account just of what happened to me that day, so I would have a complete record of my life. Obviously I suck so it's not been doing too well with maybe twenty entries since the beginning of the year, if you're lucky. All of which are more focused on emotions and thoughts than actual occurrences during a day. So I've decided that the diary is effectively replaced by this blog, so I've given it up. I was going to write in my diary tonight but instead decided to post here.

I ran back to the living room to retrieve my laptop and then sprinted with it to the safety of my bed, where I now lie, hurting my left biceps because it's hard to hold it up for so long, computer on its side, typing. All the running, though, is important. It happened because I'm afraid of the dark. Not all the time, and it's not debilitating, it's just when I think I see scary people about to murder me. But for some reason it's always safe in bed. With my feet off the floor, clearly, in case they're under the bed. My bed is protected. This is what I'm reduced to. This and making the following anecdotal joke that sounds far better in my head.

So Nikky and I are spending Valentine's day together [I'll get to the topic of the day later]. We're going to have a romantic afternoon tea at a Foundation of Young Australians seminar on a national youth leadership body. That's followed by a meeting with Glenorchy's Youth Development Officer to go through an idea before the grand finale: project reports to be used for an acquittal! I'm kidding, of course, except about the fact that we will be going to a seminar where we will no doubt receive entirely unromantic afternoon tea. After that we're doing dinner and a movie, but gold class, so how much do we rock? Lots. Specifically, how much do I rock, given that I'm paying? Lots lots.

On the topic of Valentine's day, however, I'd like to make a few more comments. I have a friend, let's call her Anne. She has a problem with the fourteenth of February. It makes her feel alone. She's not alone in that, at least. But the other important thing to remember is what Valentine's Day is about: it's about having an excuse to do something a little bit romantic while maintaining plausible deniability! You can send a card to anyone and they'll accept it. You can send an unsigned card to anyone and they'll love it. Anything you do as a couple will be sweet and wonderful. It's just like an anniversary or birthday. It's about thinking of the one(s) you like, romantically. And doing something for them.

Alternately, choose just one and do something for them. Another possibility is not doing anything for anyone - I'm happy enough with that. I think it would be nice to know how many people met others in random Valentine's day encounters. In fact, I charge you to strike up a conversation with a stranger - someone serving you in a shop (without lines too long!), someone in the park, someone at school/uni/work - in the next twenty four hours. It'd be nice if that meant on V-Day itself, but just do it anyway. It'll make me feel powerful and special (always important) and I bet it'll make you happy to meet someone new and interact with them. I guarantee it'll make them happy that someone bothered to notice and talk to them. It doesn't take much.

That'll do, pig, that'll do...