this is why too many online identities and forgotten email accounts are a BAD THING.

i was thinking about the last place i’d remembered seeing the email address of an old friend of mine, whom i haven’t seen in a couple of years, nor spoken to in the same while, and i figured that it would be on my ICQ contact list. and i thought, hey that’s great! i’ll find out the email address and then write an email saying hi are you still alive how’s it going i’m doing fine am in london right now don’t know when i’ll be back but what’s your mobile number anyway i’ll call you whenever i’m in town and we can go for drinks.

so i go and check out my icq list, but first have to download icq, then remember my password - which i can’t. so, to get the password, i have to remember the email address that i registered my original icq account with - which i can’t. i’ve tried really hard, tried all the possible combinations of passwords that i remember ever having, tried all the email accounts that i’ve possibly maybe owned, but nope, nothing.

sigh.

and it’s just going to sound really dodgy and demented if i email the icq people telling them my sob-story. so, for now, the email will just have to sit in my draft-of-a-draft folder (i.e. just in my head) and hope that my friend is actually a tea-leaf-reading psychic who can sense that i’m trying to get in touch and pre-empt me by sending me an email instead, saying it’s weird but i’ve been having dreams of you trying to contact me but you forgot my email address so i decided to see if it was true.

i knew all this identity switching and email account hopping would come back and bite me in the ass one day.

Since the last time I put up pictures of my plants, they’ve come along nicely. in fact, i think they’re doing excellently.

maybe if i spent less time thinking about my plants, i might have had enough time to revise for some firsts. but, y’know, what’s a first as compared to looking at lush greenery and vivid blooms. i’d much rather be eating them veggies than a piece of paper.

“Some may well find Brian Haw and his activities irritating, but being an irritant is a pretty fundamental part of our democracy.”

Brian Haw is an anti-Iraq War demonstrator and has been demonstrating outside the Houses of Parliament for the past couple of years.

The government passed a new piece of legislature recently in order to prevent people like Brian Haw from demonstrating within a designated distance from the Houses of Parliament.

The Courts had no choice but to find that Brian Haw had indeed broken the law (but only because the government had enacted that law to make his actions illegal) and so ordered him to move or be removed.

Shame, really. It made me feel better about the world everytime I passed Brian Haw on the bus while it went around the roundabout at the end of Westminster Bridge. It made me feel as if there were people out there who cared.

And it just doesn’t seem fair for laws to be enacted just to penalise people who were previously carrying out perfectly lawful acts. It’s like they could suddenly say all the pavements in the UK are now off-limits and we all have to walk on the roads.

I hate all this anti-terror legislation and its bastard children and grandchildren.

[update: Londonist has written a very funny entry on the Brian Haw eviction.]

it’s another one of those days.

perhaps it’s the constant drizzle, putting me off revision and tumbling headlong into reminiscence, reminding me of monsoon season and long car rides in the rain, street lamps glowing orange and strange shadows casted on the wall.

we were one of those people, we only came out at night. we stayed awake till dawn and watched the sky turn grey then pink then blue. the soundtrack was old-skool hip-hop. and jazzy loungey house tunes.

and then life got in the way, as it does. and time marches on, never ending.

i wonder if we’ll stop and say hello if we pass each other by in the street sometime. actually, i’ll stop and say hello, but i wonder if you’ll stick around and we’ll go for a coffee and catch up on events between whenever and then, or if you’ll make your best excuses and leave as soon as the formalities are over.

i also wonder what i’ll feel like, if i never see you and you and you again.

i’m enjoying revision.

i know, i ought to be shot. or put in a straightjacket. but i do.

i like writing out notes and revision thingies about corporate groups and corporate insolvency law, i like thinking about rescue procedures and how the law has changed since the Enterprise Act 2002, and i especially like the fact that i understand what i’m doing and i know what i’m talking about, even if it’s really not all that sophisticated and cross-referenced to 38279 other sources.

and its a shame that the way the education system works doesn’t allow for much more. it’s good enough as a basic bare bones send you on your way education, and it’s definitely good training in analytical and critical thinking, but sometimes i’d like to ask my tutors out for a drink and discuss feminist legal theory, or kelsen, or what really is the problem with insolvency law/trademark law/political and legal anthropology.

maybe it’s just that i’m studying much more interesting things this year as compared to the last few. and maybe it’s because i’ve actually kept up with the readings, and i’m not finding myself completely out of my depth. whatever it is, i’m lovin it. pah-dup-pah-pah-paaah.

as they say, it’s always so much easier at the end if one is consistently diligent throughout the year.

dammit. i hate it when they’re right.

It always genuinely surprises me when friends text me on my birthday. Or when I get birthday cards.

Always.

It’s nice to know people remember, but at the same time so embarassing because the scatter-brain that I am, I never remember theirs. Or even when I do, it slips my mind on the day itself to pick up my phone to type a message or give them a call.

I am a bad person.

But anyway, it went fine. The exam made it not brilliant, I caught a cold wearing inappropriate clothes for windy-sunny-then drizzling-then really windy-then rain somemore weather, but managed to haul my ass down to Notting Hill Gate for a housewarming party (and pretended that it was actually held in my honour).

Today I’ve done absolutely nothing apart from lie in bed and listen to the Beatles (Revolver), eat fish fingers and read the saturday papers. What a great way to spend a saturday - if only everyday were a Saturday, and if everyday were not a pre-exam-I’m-supposed-to-be-revising day.

So it’s nose back to the grindstone tomorrow. The sabbath is over, and hard graft shall once again resume in its never-endingness. yay.

of all the things to happen, it just had to happen like this.

the day before my first exam, and the upstairs flat has people come in to repair the toilet, and VOILA a stream of disgusting liquid starts gushing through the fucking toilet ceiling and into my bath.

FUCKING HELL

now my whole house smells like piss. my landlord’s coming over in the evening to check on it, and i don’t know if i should clean it up, or leave it for the fucking council people to wade through in all its ammonium glory.

ARGH! ARGH ARGH! ARGH ARGH ARGH!!!

can you tell i’m fucking pissed off right now?

the day before my exam!

thanks god. i know i ought to receive punishment for not praying and going to church, and doubting your existence blah blah blah, but don’t you think this is a bit too much? huh?

I HATE THOSE PEOPLE UPSTAIRS.

if i fail my jurisprudence exam, it’s their door i’m going to firebomb.