Dear Diary,
Can barely type with my fucked up forearms. I practiced piano today, did a bit on chopin and Gershwin. I got an extra shift at work. I worked on a novel, a project that I've had in my mind for a whle. November is 'write a novel month' or some shit like that. I sent off two applications, one after midnight (so that counts as a different day). I did a lot of job searching and then afterwards I felt bloody tired. I just went to bed not giving a shit, all I ate at that point was a tin of tuna, half an onion and a slice of pizza. Perhaps fatigue got to me, or perhaps it was starvation. I think it was a stupour. It has suddenly dawned on me, despite running around for the garden, despite all these liasons with Adora, despite meeting up with my mates, going to gigs and all the other fun stuff of the month of October. I have to dawn upon the realisation that next month is Novemer.
My uncle died in 2011 in October, November was the time of the funeral I recall. I recall a lot of things about 2011, 2010, not so much about 2009, and I'd rather forget 2008. 2007 comes a lot in mind to me, and after my body attack class earlier on Thursday (I resist saying 'today') I was exhausted, covered in sweat and sore, it reminded me of the physical discomfort of 2005. I didnt get in time for Pilates so I decided to try another class. What a fucking painful nightmare it was! I don't regret it, more so I do not regret the joy of that gym glass and draining my energies all the way down to zero, like a car battery. It's times like that when you realise your limits, cross over them, and jump around to the pop hits of 2012 played on an iPod.
In most respects my day has been nice and active. I slightly feel that it isn't. If you asked me at 6pm if my day went well I'd say it didn't but I think I made up. With all the shifts at work I'll be doing, I don't have as much time to apply for jobs, or train. But I will be earning money, November is a good time for work. It would be an even better time if I worked full time. All the earnings of November go to December. That means: Christmas.
I'm sort of looking forward to Christmas. Getting together, that lovely food, Doctor Who Christmas specials or whathaveyou. Monopoly with my neighbours and crappy Christmas cracker jokes. I think aunty Eileen won't be around by Christmas. Last year we spent it with her because since her son died they didn't have much to celebrate. For me it was just the togetherness of bringing familities together and sharing joy and sharing a roasted meal meant the world to me. I think I was highly appreciative of that especially since my uncle died last year and my dad was mourning.
When Aunty Eileen goes, I'm going to mourn her loss very much, and I know that it's going to hit me like nothing I've ever experienced before. So with that I guess I say: Welcome november.
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