The rest of my life shall begin to be decided next week
Or not. I should care more but I don't, because I can tell the future. I will do badly in my first history paper, but do acceptably enough on the second two to scrape a B. I will not do as well as expected on my psycho papers. I shall get a B. English language, I shall be generous for, and give myself an A. English lit: I shall do well on Poetry and Drama, quite well on Shakespeare, and reasonably on pre-19th century literature. Theatre studies will be frustrating and disappointing, because I know the subject but don't have the speed to write it all down, and so will be cut tragically short. I shall potentially have to resit psychology and my first history paper.
If any of these predictions are proved negative, I shall do the only honourable thing and shoot myself.
Seriously, my exams could go either way. I've been revising, but did worse on practices after I revised than I did before doing so. If anything I've been unlearning things all month. This is further irritated by the fact that I'm ill because of the sudden temperature shift. Not with illnes per se, but constantly feeling all groggy and lethargic, and I can't keep a meal down for love nor money. And as for love and money, the least said about them the better.
I am currently in the doghouse at home because I was trying to revise. More accurately, I was trying to revise, and suddenly to my dismay I became aware of manical laughing from the garden below. My dad was being an irritating sod, painting the fence and imitating that fence-painting advert (the one with the manic laughing, which I think is from something like The Laughing Policeman or something equally nerve-shredding that my grandma forced me to listen to in the car from the ages of two to fifteen. Here I stopped letting her give me lifts, because she refuses to wear her glasses on the road, saying that because she's long-sighted she doesn't need them to drive. She consequently ran over someone's dog and knocked over a mailbox on the same day. Tragic really. The only real life American-style letterbox I have ever seen, and I had to see it bouncing off my grandma's windscreen). I asked Dad politely if he could just hum it, because I was trying to revise. He ignored me. I asked slightly louder if he could please be quiet, because I really don't know as much as I should about American civil rights (America, rights, in the same sentence? Shocking...). He refused. I yelled at him to shut the fuck up, I needed to learn the goddamn paper. He increased the volume, so I grabbed the nearest book (which happened to be the hardback complete works of Shakespeare - hench) and threw it at him. I missed completely, but the book knocked down part of the fence. I am still being shunned for it - although, if you think about it, if all it took was a book to knock down the fence it's in the interests of health and safety that I did, or it might have collapsed on some unsuspecting passerby. A passerby passing through our back garden for no reason.
Also, I am discovering that my vaguely alienating humour (i.e. acidic scare-tactics) isn't just alienating people I want to alienate. Apparently it's upsetting some sensitive individuals I do like. Which is weird, because apparently it's alright in situation A, but not in situation B. Only they never really clarified what situations A and B actually were, which left me feeling unsettled. So as a result, in classically brilliant management techniques, I decided to avoid the potential for saying something offensive by not saying anything to them all week. So Grim, sorry. Yes, the avoidance (which you probably didn't notice anyway) was intentional, but it was well-intended. If that makes any sense at all, do let me know.
In other news, I made a video for Joe. Kind of like a party election broadcast. What I think, why I think it, what I'd like to do about it, sir, can I count on your vote? It's quite funny. Which is good because it gives me a chance to save face whatever way it gets received.
And now hombres, I must go shower, because I smell, and then go teach Debbie to play guitar, because I am wise.
Pray for my knowledge-deprived soul in these testing times. x
If any of these predictions are proved negative, I shall do the only honourable thing and shoot myself.
Seriously, my exams could go either way. I've been revising, but did worse on practices after I revised than I did before doing so. If anything I've been unlearning things all month. This is further irritated by the fact that I'm ill because of the sudden temperature shift. Not with illnes per se, but constantly feeling all groggy and lethargic, and I can't keep a meal down for love nor money. And as for love and money, the least said about them the better.
I am currently in the doghouse at home because I was trying to revise. More accurately, I was trying to revise, and suddenly to my dismay I became aware of manical laughing from the garden below. My dad was being an irritating sod, painting the fence and imitating that fence-painting advert (the one with the manic laughing, which I think is from something like The Laughing Policeman or something equally nerve-shredding that my grandma forced me to listen to in the car from the ages of two to fifteen. Here I stopped letting her give me lifts, because she refuses to wear her glasses on the road, saying that because she's long-sighted she doesn't need them to drive. She consequently ran over someone's dog and knocked over a mailbox on the same day. Tragic really. The only real life American-style letterbox I have ever seen, and I had to see it bouncing off my grandma's windscreen). I asked Dad politely if he could just hum it, because I was trying to revise. He ignored me. I asked slightly louder if he could please be quiet, because I really don't know as much as I should about American civil rights (America, rights, in the same sentence? Shocking...). He refused. I yelled at him to shut the fuck up, I needed to learn the goddamn paper. He increased the volume, so I grabbed the nearest book (which happened to be the hardback complete works of Shakespeare - hench) and threw it at him. I missed completely, but the book knocked down part of the fence. I am still being shunned for it - although, if you think about it, if all it took was a book to knock down the fence it's in the interests of health and safety that I did, or it might have collapsed on some unsuspecting passerby. A passerby passing through our back garden for no reason.
Also, I am discovering that my vaguely alienating humour (i.e. acidic scare-tactics) isn't just alienating people I want to alienate. Apparently it's upsetting some sensitive individuals I do like. Which is weird, because apparently it's alright in situation A, but not in situation B. Only they never really clarified what situations A and B actually were, which left me feeling unsettled. So as a result, in classically brilliant management techniques, I decided to avoid the potential for saying something offensive by not saying anything to them all week. So Grim, sorry. Yes, the avoidance (which you probably didn't notice anyway) was intentional, but it was well-intended. If that makes any sense at all, do let me know.
In other news, I made a video for Joe. Kind of like a party election broadcast. What I think, why I think it, what I'd like to do about it, sir, can I count on your vote? It's quite funny. Which is good because it gives me a chance to save face whatever way it gets received.
And now hombres, I must go shower, because I smell, and then go teach Debbie to play guitar, because I am wise.
Pray for my knowledge-deprived soul in these testing times. x