God damn it I'm dying. There's a constant stream of mucus dripping from my nostrils, my tonsils feel like they've been attacked by the claws of an angry kitten, my head is throbbing and my limbs ache as if I've been carrying a pie-eating champion to a county fair. I've got a cold. And I can live with it. But to my female housemates it's manflu and they're calling the funeral directors for me.

So yeah, I'm feeling a bit shit today. It's no different from most days where I feel like shit, except that this time it's not self inflicted illness. I feel cheated. The other thing is, why do you always get ill at the most inapproriate of times? I was supposed to get up and crack on with studying today, but I found it impossible to rise from my slumber. I've now got an hour until work and have achieved an hour or so of slack stuying in the library. Looks like I'll be doing homework in the office at the shop. After work I've got friends that I haven't seen for a while to catch up with for a few beers. Tomorrow I've got a repeat performance of studying then work and then partying and Sunday it's just a nine hour stint in the shop. It's hard enough when I'm feeling healthy!

Finally, a right decision. And it was made by someone else.

I arose at around half three (following last night's lateness), feeling like shit and found plenty of distractions. Showering and eating breakfast seemed to take forever. I also discovered some chores around the house that needed doing.

The plan was to go to a friend's tonight to do some college work. This is because I find it impossible to do in my own home. By the time I got myself dinner I found out that my mate couldn't help out tonight. I had previously declined a 'come drinking' text from other mates because I had work plans. Chasing up the drinking plans, I find out that they have also fallen through. Looks like I might be able to keep myself in and do some writing this evening. That'll be a first. Although Spurs v PSV is on. There's only twenty minutes left, I'll get on with work in a minute.

It's gone five o'clock and I'm up blogging. I've just returned from a friend's where amongst other things such as playing the guitar, smoking and drinking, I also partook in a slight dabble of the blog. My college work blog Art School Writer?. It's quite bizarre having two. I think I'm getting addicted, I'll have eight before Easter!

I've got this far and forgotten the point of why I started writing. That's not much use. Should mention Q Bar and that I did some DJing. I'm part of the Q Collective apparently. I can see myself getting distracted by that quite easily, what with the head first diving into my music collection and the time consuming, nay, time erasing process of burning tracks on to CDs and playlists on to cases. I have however, on a positive in a work-related way, come up with a great idea for a few features to write and am slowly getting back into the dissertation managing to both a write and think about it with slight interest.

It's now half five-ish, I should sleep (although I don't have to get up in the morning for anything). I think I'll have a quick session on the poker and line up some tunes for next week.

My inability to do anything right is starting to become abundantly clear. Well, I say 'starting' like it's recent revelation when in fact it's been playing on my mind for a number of months now. It's just that I haven't really found any hard evidence until now which would support a decent moan.

I've just returned from the pub after watching Manchester United play a boring 90 minutes against Lyon. Fortunately, they won 1-0. That's not the problem. Last week I came home deflated and some what miffed after seeing them pull back a 1-0 deficit to draw 1-1. One hundred and eighty minutes of my time that I could have spent otherwise. (Like studying for once perhaps.) But as a loyal fan I followed their progress regardless. The last three matches that I haven't been able to watch (due to either my shitty job or the stupid licensing laws that prohibit live televised Saturday afternoon games) United have won 3-0 against Fulham, 4-0 against Arsenal in the cup and destroyed Newcastle 5-1. Oh yeah, I managed to catch the first half of the 2-1 defeat to City in the derby. Funny that. To recap then, I've missed three games and 12 goals, but seen two and two.

This seems to have a haunting resemblance to my luck in general day to day life. I decide to do something, it turns out to be the wrong decision. I decide not to do something and it turns out that I should have. Now yesterday I said that I wasn't going to go drinking with my friends and do some school work. Instead, I dumped the school work and went drinking which resulted in no work, a rather long hangover and a night (and the majority of today) where I should be being productive. Whilst in the pub I received a text message inviting me to do some more drinking (I stuck to tea throughout the game, it's probably what kept me awake). I responsibly declined and am now getting my creative juices flowing writing this. There is a one hundred per cent chance that when I see my friends tomorrow they'll tell me what a great night I missed out on and how I should have been there because INSERT UNLIKELY BUT DESIRABLE SITUATION HERE.