Jitters
Poo.
My Oxford interview's on Wednesday.
Why the fuck am I on livejournal?
Saw Athene for the last time before she goes off for hers yesterday, and I won't see her for a week now. I wish I could take people up with me, it would make the whole ghastly process almost bearable. No, that would happen if a certain man were to come with me, but anyway...
She'll be in Oxford this evening, and then the whole thing will have started, wheels rolling relentlessly on until I find myself up there as well, ALONE and shit-scared, paralysed by nerves and incapable of speech at all, let alone anything worthy of getting me into the university. Even the thought of a mock interview/pep talk gives me a constricting sensation across my chest.
On Friday I managed to calm down a little in therapy, as I found something to say (there was a link with Atonement in there somewhere) but the words and ideas have since departed in a jangle of stress and itchiness.
On a happier note, though, lunch was really good yesterday, and I've been to gymn three times this week so can feel a bit smug in this respect (although the profiteroles and apple crumble undid the good work somewhat yesterday...)
Man, what am I going to do? These interviews have been on the horizon for so long that it seemed they'd never arrive, and that when they did, I'd have had sooooo long to prepare that I'd be totally ready. Which is completely ridiculous, what with the fact that I am someone who never does anything until I really REALLY have to, right at the last minute. I guess it seemed like I'd be different by then, like when you're little and you try to picture yourself at, say, 24 and you think you'll be all grown up and clever and stuff.
Ha, I don't think I'll ever think of myself as that - that would require confidence and self-belief and the removal of the feeling that I'm a complete fraud and the idea that I actually know anything at all is just ludicrous misconception.
Poo.
My Oxford interview's on Wednesday.
Why the fuck am I on livejournal?
Saw Athene for the last time before she goes off for hers yesterday, and I won't see her for a week now. I wish I could take people up with me, it would make the whole ghastly process almost bearable. No, that would happen if a certain man were to come with me, but anyway...
She'll be in Oxford this evening, and then the whole thing will have started, wheels rolling relentlessly on until I find myself up there as well, ALONE and shit-scared, paralysed by nerves and incapable of speech at all, let alone anything worthy of getting me into the university. Even the thought of a mock interview/pep talk gives me a constricting sensation across my chest.
On Friday I managed to calm down a little in therapy, as I found something to say (there was a link with Atonement in there somewhere) but the words and ideas have since departed in a jangle of stress and itchiness.
On a happier note, though, lunch was really good yesterday, and I've been to gymn three times this week so can feel a bit smug in this respect (although the profiteroles and apple crumble undid the good work somewhat yesterday...)
Man, what am I going to do? These interviews have been on the horizon for so long that it seemed they'd never arrive, and that when they did, I'd have had sooooo long to prepare that I'd be totally ready. Which is completely ridiculous, what with the fact that I am someone who never does anything until I really REALLY have to, right at the last minute. I guess it seemed like I'd be different by then, like when you're little and you try to picture yourself at, say, 24 and you think you'll be all grown up and clever and stuff.
Ha, I don't think I'll ever think of myself as that - that would require confidence and self-belief and the removal of the feeling that I'm a complete fraud and the idea that I actually know anything at all is just ludicrous misconception.
Poo.