1. How to poach an egg
2. How to flip a pancake.
3. How to make a budget.
4. How to drive.
5. How to write an essay.
6. How to do makeup.
7. How to perform CPR.
8. How to change a nappy.
9. Learn another language (French).
10. Travel internationally by myself.

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I want to start taking my own photos to add to my posts,but at the moment my camera is broken! I don’t seem to be able to get the battery to charge. I’m hoping to fix it soon, though.

On the other front, however, this is not so true. French remains a constant, poor-achievement thorn in my side. On the up side, this is the last learning French course I have to do. I have spoken to my advisers and am able to do French translation next semester. This is French into English translation — and I’m good at English! Am actually really looking forward to it.

So…I guess that’s all for now. Just a quick update to let you know that I do intend to keep updating! I’ve missed blogging.

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I had an awful dream last night.

Well…no. The dream was wonderful. But it was one of those dreams that were so good that you wake up and then realise it was just a dream, and all of a sudden you’re in an absolute funk.

It feels ridiculous that I’m so starved for affection that dreaming I’m in love can put me into this mood. It’s not even like the dream was a perfect life. This person was so right, it was one of those things where I just knew, and it all worked. But there were problems, too. At one point he got so angry at me he simply wouldn’t talk to me. I had to live in the same house and he would just be not where I was at all times, and it made me so sad but it didn’t stop me from loving him. We made up after that fight. And then his mother was such a witch and I didn’t much like her at all… it’s not like my dream had the perfect life. But it did have that connection, something which I have yet to feel.

I loved this person, completely and utterly, and was secure in the knowledge that he loved me…

…and then I woke up.

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…The stories are coming back. It’s so strange to me, I’ve lived without them for so long. When he died it was like all the creativity had been sucked out of me. I wanted to deny at the time, tried desperately to write something, anything, but it was all just…crap. My heart wasn’t in it and the passion I once had for it was gone.

But now…I haven’t written anything yet. But I get flashes. Dialogue. Scenes. Ideas. It’s like the story is waiting for me. Waiting for me to be ready.

And maybe I will be, one day soon. I like to think so, anyway.

Instead, I’ve got a cold and I’m sitting in my house watching What Happens In Vegas and eating wedges with obscene amounts of sour cream. God, my life is interesting.

Which was fun, incredibly fun, but also a little deadly. It’s 7pm now and I’m still not quite ‘right’. I’m just drinking some more water and I think that’s helped with the shakes. Eep.

So the theme was Sex, Drugs, Rock n Roll. We got completely dressed up. There was a love guru and a pimp, I went as a crackwhore, there was a guitar and someone dressed as Russell Brand, Meatloaf, Kurt Cobain, punk rockers, and one friend came as a vicar’s wife.

It was absolutely brilliant. I’ll put photos up if I find any.

I arrived at the dental surgery and went in to see the nurse. She had me hold a basin and then rinsed out the wounds and got me to spit the water out, so that we knew it was clean. Then she got a funny metal thing to hold my cheek back and started prodding around. “Does this hurt?” she asked. “This?” I shake my head. At one point I feel a twinge, so I shrug. She took it as an affirmative: she said she needed to ‘dress’ the wound. She took out some dressing coated with clove oil, and before I knew it, she’d forced it into the hole. I flinched, whimpered, but it was over quickly. My tooth was throbbing. What the hell? This hurt worse. She mentions she needs some more, then gets extra and pushes it in.

I can’t help it. I start crying, and I just don’t stop. Partially it’s the pain now — because holy fuck, it was worse than when I walked in! — and partially the wear from an entire week of pain. The tears keep leaking out and I just want to sit down and have a cry somewhere.

The nurse felt awful, but I just couldn’t stop. It just kept going and going, and I was upset too because I was worried I’d scare away the customers. I managed to calm myself down enough to get outside of the surgery, then I called my Mum and cried to her for a good half hour. The pain was just so intense and so much worse than it had been before I even walked in. How was that fair? Finally I made my Mum distract me with trivial news, so that I could calm down enough to get home.

An hour and a half later, the dressing had completely numbed the pain from the tooth, including the throbbing that was previously there. I felt so much better, almost as if I were completely back to normal. What a miracle oil! I guess sometimes pain is not necessarily a bad thing.

(Now I think I need to get the nurse a card or something, because I made her feel awful.)

I’ll let you know what the result is afterwards.

Right now, I’m just waiting to break. In approximately 9 hours I will be calling my dental surgeon and asking him what the hell is going on with my mouth, because I’ve had enough. I had my post-op appointment on Friday and he said everything was fine, fantastically clean and I went on my merry way. Friday night, and I’m in an agony. My left cheek is just pulsing, it’s all swollen on the inside and I don’t know what to do. I have to wait it out until I can have Panadeine, Panadol’s stronger cousin, and then with a combination of that and Ibuprofin I finally get to sleep.

I wake up Saturday morning with a slight throb; I take some more Panadeine and then I’m fine on Panadol for the rest of the day. Until about 5 when the pain starts up again, same place, same pain, and I get to the point where I feel physically sick. I call my Mum in what is basically tears, because I don’t know why it hurts. Everything I’m reading about is saying ‘Dry socket, dry socket’, but if it’s that then why does it only hurt at night? Mum says that it’s probably my stitches, which apparently tighten before they begin to dissolve. Apparently Mum does not dissolve stitches. She says that if it still hurts by Monday-Tuesday, then I should contact the dentist; perhaps I am the same as her.

The pain starts to subside at about 10:30 – 11pm, which is around when I can take another tablet anyway. I get to sleep and wake up at 5am with the same throbbing. Get up long enough to take tablets, then back to bed.

Wake up this morning. No problem. Panadol and ibuprofen. I am now at the stage where I can eat (!!) things. Real foods. I chew eggs and pasta and even hot chips (!) no problem. Until about 8:30. Then the throbbing starts. I took my last painkiller at 8 and, foolish me, I was cocky and took Panadol. I cannot have Panadeine until 12 as a result. So I’m sitting here nursing a cheek that feels like someone’s just hit it with a frying pan, counting down the hours until I can call the stupid dentist to find out what’s wrong.

Although, knowing me, I’ll wake up at 8 or 9 feeling fine, and will forget about it until 8 o’clock tomorrow night. And then curse myself at a volume which will be heard worldwide.