Salutations,

I can't sleep a wink because I'm so jetlagged. And I feel dead tired.

I sometimes wonder, during the sleepless nights when I'm just sitting, or lying down, what exactly would happen this summer. Maybe nothing. That might be nice. So far I haven't seen anyone since... well, Houston, and I rather like it. I'm leaving everyone anyway, I might as well as do it unobtrusively.

I don't think I was meant to come here. So leaving without a trace would be a good thing to do.

Salutations,

I don't really know why I'm up at 5:09, but I'm bored. And I have to board the flight at eight, so three more hours...

Oh, that's right. Where have I been? Well, I'm in London (again), with Jack, doing absolutely nothing productive. Three day stay (short, I know), but I'm happy...

Except with Jack (haha).

He has turned into a complete university student from the handsome (??) British boy I knew.

First night:

Jack: "Mo, let's go to a pub. I'm hungry."
Me: "Jack, I'm dead tired..."

Second day:

Jack: ~goes to a cash machine~ "Oops! I overdrafted again."

Third day:

Jack: "Mo, if you don't mind, would you make me a Sunshine Toast?"

So I ended up making Eggy in the Basket. But not before going to Sainsbury's first. He owes me a nice dinner now.

Oh, and toss this in for a good measure:

Jack: "Mo, you look... healthier than the last I saw you."
Me: "What on EARTH do you mean?"
Jack: "Promise you won't attack me in any way?"
Me: "...alright."
Jack: "Okay, to say it bluntly, you look like you gained weight."

Why, thank you, you who walk down Runways and see all those skinny people. I'm NOT ON MY JOB RIGHT NOW! And I haven't been doing too well with my pre-job dieting, thank you very much. And just because you can eat anything you want and not gain weight, Jack, doesn't mean that I have as good of a metabolism as you. Do you hear me?

But... I had fun being with John. Just walking around, feeling the sun, eating cake in Covent Garden.

Salutations,

Being tortured (well, at least my left hand) by that cursed Tchaikovsky (I hate you), reading Statistics (unwillingly), worrying about my medical school career, and not doing very well with my diet, I'm ready to explode.

No. Really.

After watching every single rendition of the 1st movement and quite possibly hearing every rendition as well, I've come to the conclusion that they sound good (especially Oistrakh, who skipped some notes and missed the beats on quite a few occasions) sound good because they're pitched at 444 hertz. Which sounds extremely off-key and high to me. Even 442 sounds high.

And hello! Did he really have to make the 1st movement 20 pages and 20 minutes? It's almost two movements! By the time I'm done with the 1st movement I'll be fed up.

I'm also debating which societies I should join - a bit premature, I know, but still. Orchestra? Well, the audition pieces are easy - so easy I can sightread them - so is it worth three hours every week and more before the concerts? The stuff they perform aren't very good - most are modern and well, I don't understand modern or contemporary. They sound like they should be named "Cacophony Number 2" or something. Sorry, my musical education ended at Stravinsky. Beyond that is darkness.

Debate? Well, I don't want to give up debate, I've been doing it for four years... but it takes SO MUCH time and effort.

I'm also going to have to do two jobs (without Mother knowing) - teaching violin (which will force me to practice), modeling (over the holidays). Not fun.

The novelization of 'The Letters' isn't coming along too well, either. I keep finding myself wandering between reading Rebecca and Oscar Wilde instead of struggling with the sentences.

Grr.