The sun is shining, the Stereophonics are serenading me about some waitress with first-day blues, and being nothing precious at all. I’m on holiday, technically; no college for five more week. I’ve almost had five weeks off already.

Bored doesn’t come close. Inactivity is driving me totally crazy. This is the first time in over two years I’ve felt so useless and lethargic. I might be depressed.

I’m going away soon, to Glasgow to see Joe. It has been two months since I last saw him. It feels like forever. Sometimes I worry I will forget what he looks like and not recognise him when he meets me at the station, that he’ll walk up to me and I won’t know it’s him till he says my name. I want to memorise every single thing about Glasgow; first seeing his flat, meeting his family, walking around Glasgow holding hands. If it rains I want to hang upside-down from a drainpipe and kiss him with the mascara running from my eyes, hair in my face.

My father has turned the kitchen inside out. Glasses on the couch, blueberries and peanut butter and teabags and forks and cherry tomatoes on the table in the dining room. He is painting the ceiling in his underwear and a little vest top, the kind skinny girls wear to the beach. If you had asked me yesterday what colour the kitchen ceiling was, I would have said white. Today I would change yesterday’s answer to yellow. Years of grease and dust and cooking smells cling to that ceiling. The patches my father has painted gleam happily, in a mocking sort of way. As if to say to the yellow bits, haha, this is how easy it is to get rid of you.

The song Hey, by the Pixies is a work of genius. I must have listened to it yesterday at least once an hour. It is the kind of song which requires closed eyes. It makes me think of Thom.

Must be a devil between us
Or whores in my head
Whores at the door
Whore in my bed.

I hope he will still talk to me. When he told me he was jealous of Joe over MSN, I cried. I can’t even be friends with a guy right. How does it work? The Harry-Sally Syndrome always gets in the way.

But Hey! Where have you been?

He said he needs time to lick his wounds. This will make meeting up very awkward. Even before his proclamation of jealousy, I almost broke my bracelet with the wooden barrels, my favourite one, because of the awkwardness . I messed with it, pulled at the barrels in the silences between us saying things, or when he sat on the window sill to smoke out of the open window. He is a silent smoker.

We’re chained.

So here is yet another new blog.