Who would've thought? I'm beginning to enjoy work! It's tough, it's stressful, it's scary and I'm terrified of making a mistake - I've made a couple already - and I've pretty much determined that I won't have a life for the next fourteen months or so, and yet, it's... fascinatingly interesting. I'm not bored and I actually feel more or less on par with my colleagues and not like some inexperienced greenie, which is how I usually feel when I work.

Something happened to me during my final year in London. Some change in attitude and personality which I'm only now beginning to realise. If it really is due to all the work I had to put into my ECAs and socialising this year, then the fact that I got a 2:1 instead of my much-desired first... I don't care about it one whit. I had a fantastic final year. I made lots of new friends, it was the best year ever for my society, I pretty much kept up with my academic work (until the exams), I travelled to ten countries in eight months, I managed to squeeze in some really good theatre and I had a smashing time with a wonderful boy. And I now have a pretty good job at home.

Seriously speaking, I shouldn't ask for anything else. And right now, at this moment, I'm not.

Thank you so much for everything that I have, God.

It's amazing how truly difficult it becomes to find someone you really connect with as you grow older. It seemed so simple when I was in junior high, but now, although the new friends I've made are nice, they just don't strike me as the kind of people I'd really really enjoy being with. They're just not as wild and crazy as my old friends; I can't picture spending a whole entire day with them and actually having a truly good time.

When I say a good time, I don't mean wild drinking, crazy dancing and rampant sex - heck, I don't even get that with my best friends ;) I just mean that I don't think they'll make me laugh and feel like I can be as unashamedly quirky and silly as I am when I'm with those friends I've made in school.

It's difficult to explain, but in school, there wasn't anyone there to judge you that much. You were just people who were studying together, occasionally competing but on the whole, people with a genuine interest in one another's lives. Now... it's like you want new people to like you... so you constrain yourself just a little, restrain your idiosyncratic eccentricities. You're a little wary and keep them in a certain compartment of your life. If they're your work friends, then that's where they'll remain, never to encroach upon other parts of your life. If you happen to mention parts of your personal life to your colleagues, they react as though you've just breached a taboo. As though they're work friends, they don't want to know about your private life, not at all.

What I'm going to write next may seem quite strange to those who know me well. I miss that openness I experienced while in London. I'm not as closed, not as private and restrained anymore, and being back here has only served to reinforce the feeling that I can't really be myself when I'm here. I always get the feeling that people are judging me - too loud, too quiet, too passive, too eager, hair too untidy, too tired, whatever. I wish we could have the openness of the West with the closeness and intimacy of the East. It sounds weird, doesn't it? But that's what I miss.

I've realised that you've got to know me pretty well before you realise that I'm not as reserved as I seem. Or rather, I do tend to be rather quiet at times, and don't say much, but that's because when I'm with the ones I care a lot about, I find it a lot harder to say what I want to say. Sometimes, the more you get to know me, the weirder I act. Or the more constrained I feel because I feel that you expect certain things of me and can't imagine me doing anything else. But I digress.

What I meant to write was that sometimes, I say very little. And yet, I say a lot. It's amazing how the short phrases that come out of my mouth can come attached with so much meaning... like how "he's... interesting" (complete with short pause in the middle) really means "he's a little strange, not that good-looking and so not my type." And more recently, how "I miss you" means that, as well as "I really really wish you were here with me right now" and "I love you" and "I don't know what to do without you."

Sigh.

After my first tiring week at work, which largely consisted of shadowing my colleagues, lots of training on the products my company deals with, and a lot of not too difficult, yet not at all easy tests, it's the first weekend! I'm really happy that I've gotten this far, and am looking forward to doing some shopping as I badly need to stock my supply of suitable working clothes. My wardrobe right now consists of quite a fair amount of exceedingly casual clothing, and some clubbing outfits, as well as a lot of old clothing that fit me from age 15 to 19 but sadly not after that.

Working's been okay thus far. It's the free time that gets me. I don't seem to be doing anything productive as I'm too tired to. I'm too exhausted to even think about going to the gym, I work too far away to go to any of the dance classes I would love to go to, and I'm too tired to study for my training modules. And yet, because of the university training I've had, I can't seem to go to sleep before 12:30 am and that's not enough sleep for me. At the same time, I don't think a person my age ought to be going to sleep any earlier than that as that's just weak.

I start proper work tomorrow. I'm not at all excited about it. Rather, I'm pretty nervous - wondering if I'll be able to cut the mustard and survive until this time next year. Curiously enough, that's not the main thing that's bothering me right now. I called my ex today - a birthday call - or so I tell myself. I miss him a lot, especially at night... I basically delayed my flight home so that I wouldn't have time to think about him. And it's worked, up to a certain extent. It's a nasty thing, love is. I didn't intend to fall in love... not this year at least. Especially not this year, seeing as I knew the hurt would be the greatest if I did. And guess what? I fell.

Silly, stupid me.

Sleep calls.