Day Twenty-Five: VEGETARIAN

I really believe that the hour between 10 o'clock and 11 o'clock at night moves faster than any of the other hours in the day. Tonight was no different. I guess it's not a problem, if I know that that's the case. This afternoon went by slowly, like the beginning of a sunset. The colours of the afternoon faded quietly into view, deepening every time I looked up from my work, but never quite reaching darkness. I sat in Waterstones with a piece of carrot cake on my left and my laptop on my right. I wrote my essay, slowly but surely, mimicking the afternoon and its cautious light. I am nearly finished with my essay. It is something I enjoyed doing, and it was surprising moving up the page and realising that I had written a lot more than I thought I had, because I think I had more to write, though I'm not sure.

There are lots of things I'm not sure about. There are also lots of things which I am sure about, and in the end the certainties and uncertainties seem to balance each other out, and I am able to waltz happily from question to answer and back without feeling too dizzy. Question, answer, question, Question, answer, question. Down, up, up. Down, up, up. There are more ups than downs and though the downs are heavy, they steady the soul, and though the ups are quick, they lighten it. Lighten the weight or lighten the dark? I am not sure. 

I sent a letter to Zimbabwe and a letter to Russia this morning, before I went to class. This time I went to the counter instead of the self-service robot, and the lady gave me real stamps instead of pre-sticky ones. Licking the stamp yourself and knowing that you are responsible for connecting the stamp to the envelope is a powerful feeling. It's like being the only person who knows the password to the safe: if you forget it, no one can get in. If you don't stick the stamp on properly, it won't go anywhere. Little scrawls of my soul are sprawling across the universe as I speak. Or maybe they're not. Maybe they're vying to be on top in the red post-box and eagerly anticipating the post-man's approach. Or maybe they're trying to sink to the bottom, afraid of where they might end up and wearied by the weight of the words they contain. If I were a letter, I would be one of the excited ones, I am sure.

I also went shopping today. I have decided to go vegetarian this week, mainly because I didn't have any meat in my cupboards when I went shopping, and I don't eat much anyway and so I wanted to see if I could do it properly. I bought beans for protein and honey yoghurt too. And when I got home, though I'd been to two different shops and I was tired, I made a proper salad. Usually I make the same old salad - lettuce and tomato and carrots and spring onions. It always taste good, and it's obviously always healthy. I vary the presentation, which satisfies both my longing for spontaneity and my appreciation of habit. But today I branched out and made a chickpea salad, with diced red onion and tomato and carrot. I heated the chickpeas up first, in boiling salted water. I am not sure if that was the right thing to do, but the end result was, I am sure, satisfactory in the highest degree. I added my diced carrots to the chickpeas and then strained them over the sink. Then I scraped the chopped red onions off the edge of the glass chopping board. They moved reluctantly, like children that have to be pushed off the diving board because they are afraid of the water and the height. Everything landed in an ocean of lettuce, and I scribbled some mayonnaise across the top, and then a spark of pepper and the meal was complete. I was felt very full when I'd finished eating, I am sure of that.

I also made three video vlogs today, but when they will be uploaded is dependent on the Internet and not my creative endurance, and thus I am not sure when you will see them. I bought flowers, too, at Waitrose. They were at a reduced price because they were old, but Is till think they're beautiful. Apart from the fact that I wanted their bright pink and red and yellow and orange to liven up my room - which apparently, according to some, looks like a "hospital" - I also couldn't leave them to die. Few things hurt my heart more than witnessing neglect, and flowers are no lesser creature than any other. Thus I could not stand by and let them wither away int heir plastic coffins, when I knew that they could share their vivacity if only I would buy them. I bought them and they are lovely.

I am sure, however, that I will sleep very well and so I bid you adieu and you and you and you-ou.