Feeling like poo and making exorbitant promises to myself even I don't believe anymore about how I'm not going to beat myself up with applications so badly now that this one is almost done. It's just this fucking university application - so involved. I translated my French transcript last Friday and it was a terrible trip down memory lane. Although I did well in the end and that made things better, I have never had such a roundly mortifying academic experience as going to school in that bloody country, and I have a feeling part of my lack of motivation now might have something to do with memories of being accountable to a group of fucking pompous twats and not getting paid for it. Oh, it exhausts me just remembering.
Anyways. I've run myself sick so now I'll have time to polish the application material, which suggests to me my body is in collusion with some part of my brain I'm not happy with at the moment. I'll tell you one thing though - I can no longer bear weekends like the past one. I really can't . . . hours and hours and hours in front of the cocking computer while shelves of delicious books beckoned and soooo many other pleasanter courses of action reared their head.
Not much else to tell you that I can recall. Went to Matignon for a Winterlicious meal. Pretty good. Had better. The fish was beautifully fresh but the sauces were over-salty and the chocolate cake was unremarkable. Should have gone for Italian. Now I'm going to fix the last page of the fucking outline of the fucking dissertation and go back to bed.