there aren't enough days in the next two weeks. i'm pretty sure that i can take care of it all, but i suddenly realized that i'm travelling to the states in about a fortnight. fuck. i hope my passports are still okay, the us requires those biometric thingys now, right? i should probably look into this, but i suppose it is a bit too late, right? fuck fuck fuck. anyways, i'm writing a feature for the skinny (scotland's equivalent to OC weekly) and i'm nervous as hell. before i was just writing reviews of gay bars/clubs, but now i've been upgraded to a feature in the lifestyle section. fuck fuck fuck. i hope that my editor threw me up there because i'm a decent writer, not because i know her (aka the right people). the article is a great subject, i just need some more direction...or some limitations. i've been given some freedom and i don't know where to go with it...limit me, stop me, subject me to some sort of writing prompt ala school, don't don't give me freedom. scary. boxcar racing is on saturday. we've lost control of our press coverage. according to today's paper we're causing a row (britishism = fight, pronounced: rou). it sounds like the edinburgh park service (not their real name) want to shut us down, or something... fuck fuck fuck. mostly it is bad journalism, it seems that we've got our own rita skeeter.