(no subject)
I am not dead, or lost, and haven't forgotten my LJ password. I am just swamped under revision for AS exams, which started last week, and are melting my brain. I've only had three so far: Roman Britain, which, surprisingly, didn't go too badly, and two English Literature exams, which did. And it is no use saying that I am Super-Kate, and everything will be all right, because it won't, and I've entirely resigned myself to the fact that I'm getting a terrible grade, and will have to change my university plans. It's rather sad, because English is the only subject that I actually care about (well, there's History, but even if I screw up the upcoming History exam, I've got an A anyway, so I'm not bothered in the least about that one).
To add insult to injury, I memorised seven John Donne poems that were absolutely no use in the exam, which means that my brain is going to be full of slightly dodgy phrases like, "O perverse sex, where no is true but she," and "Snorted we in the seven sleepers den?" for a good six weeks. But at least I will never again have to write an essay about preludes to sex. Well, I hope not.
On the bright side, however, my parents have disappeared off to Bolton for a wedding for three days, and are going to Dublin for a holiday after that, meaning that I have the house entirely to myself for the half-term holiday, except for the two days that we are running a siling course, but the nearest I will get to either parent during that time will be about two boat widths. So I cam spend ten days doing whatever I like, and if I choose to spend the day moping abotu watching School of Rock, eating my way through the entire contents of the fridge, and generally feeling sorry for myself, I can, without anyone having quiet conferences about me in the corner, or suggesting that we 'talk about it'.
I am not really depressed. After all, who could be depressed when thye have the functions of the European Commision to learn?
Oh, and, after many breaks, a good deal of wailing, and a horrific amount of swearing, I have finally finished Gemini, the last in Dorothy Dunnett's Niccolo series. Um. Gosh.
On to Henry James.
To add insult to injury, I memorised seven John Donne poems that were absolutely no use in the exam, which means that my brain is going to be full of slightly dodgy phrases like, "O perverse sex, where no is true but she," and "Snorted we in the seven sleepers den?" for a good six weeks. But at least I will never again have to write an essay about preludes to sex. Well, I hope not.
On the bright side, however, my parents have disappeared off to Bolton for a wedding for three days, and are going to Dublin for a holiday after that, meaning that I have the house entirely to myself for the half-term holiday, except for the two days that we are running a siling course, but the nearest I will get to either parent during that time will be about two boat widths. So I cam spend ten days doing whatever I like, and if I choose to spend the day moping abotu watching School of Rock, eating my way through the entire contents of the fridge, and generally feeling sorry for myself, I can, without anyone having quiet conferences about me in the corner, or suggesting that we 'talk about it'.
I am not really depressed. After all, who could be depressed when thye have the functions of the European Commision to learn?
Oh, and, after many breaks, a good deal of wailing, and a horrific amount of swearing, I have finally finished Gemini, the last in Dorothy Dunnett's Niccolo series. Um. Gosh.
On to Henry James.