Had a horrid, recurring nightmare last night. Seems like sleep tests you, seeing how you react under specific scenarios. Other times I wake up and feel like I've interrupted myself in cycling through my knowledge (often sensory, like touch or smells or feelings), as though sleep's purpose is to keep active and healthy those connections we don't consciously use on a daily basis.

Feel oddly positive about the realisation that people fundamentally don't have the energy or time to care about the things that I worry over about myself. I'm such a small part of their lives that even my major flaws are nothing but tiny datapoints in a torrent of more important information. People more or less go on what you tell them and what you do, and have precious little motive to delve further to uncover any underlying or unspoken qualities or principles. Still waters may run deep, but a vanishingly small number of people will ever fathom them, and with good reason. Provided the surface is reasonably reflective, that's all anyone really wants.

Sick of these Conte Crayons, which keep breaking and can't keep a point.

Paced the garden, paced the kitchen. Debated the utility of the Myers-Briggs and concluded that it is non-scientific mind candy that I cannot resist.

Enjoyed doing my late night self portrait.

Late to bed but early to rise, emerging from my borrowed sleeping bag in a borrowed Piccadilly appartment like the pretender I truly am. Breakfast and Tate Modern, then home to Suffolk and a beautiful summer evening.

Felt happy and contended in the afterglow of a happy evening and the pleasure of good company.

Read up more about my INTP personality type, and feel giddy with joy to hear my own thoughts and predelictions are not weird and unique but are shared and treasured by a great many others. Plenty of strategies to learn to defeat the bad bits of the logical personality and excellent to more clearly understand my weaknesses and areas where I need help.

Wonderful, wonderful day with friends in London. Lunch then quick look at the Turners in Tate Britain, then pub then big birthday meal. So lovely to have all my allies together in one place!

Worked through the small hours on a thankless website deployment, jerked awake at 11am with heart in mouth through stress and immediately got back to work, still in bed. Horrible, inhumane, cruel.

Hurried off to Cambridge for an equally and oppositely enjoyable afternoon of streetside sunny tea and coffee and cake with my old boss. Restorative and fun, unlike the bus ride.

Bought a don't-even-think-about-it expensive jumper to wear to my birthday dinner because I need to baffle people into thinking I'm more than just a layabout living at home with his disabled father who can't drive and doesn't have a proper job, and I have chosen to do so through the medium of cashmere knitwear.

Late summer sunny day in Suffolk, with a lovely walk from Cavendish over the fields towards Clare. Ink-dark skies and golden sun.

Money is the main thing I talk about at the moment.

Turned 28, spent an enjoyable few hours with dad going around Audley End House and making fun of the collections: lots of money, no taste. Paintings that felt as though they were bought because buying paintings is the done thing, not through any intrinsic merit or guiding aesthetic preference. Dreadful wood carvings in hideous profusion, representing wealth without discretion. The grounds give excellent vistas though.

Last day of being 27, went for a walk with Jess, cooked another good meal. Every birthday is a gift, I'm grateful for my health and friends, the exceptional ease and comfort of my life. Vast immensities of un conscious nonexistence either side of this little sliver of life, very privileged to be here and so well provided for.

Really enjoyed cooking tonight. Time-consuming, purposeful, rewarding.

Took some junk to the charity shop, which was busy with people buying grotty clothes and old DVDs. Felt like the lord of the manor distributing alms to the poor.

Slept late, dreams of money worries.

Browsed some antiques with dad prior to buying an mdf piece of shit desk. Spent an inordinate amount of time browsing and buying positional goods online (i.e branded clothing). It's my low self-esteem giving into the idea that wearing expensive frippery will trick people into thinking I'm a better person than I am. It works on me, to a degree, so it probably works on equally impressionable third parties too.

Back done in from my fall yesterday. So glad to be young and healthy and able to more or less ignore it.