Sleepwalking my way through life: February 2006



Phonies

Sunday, February 26, 2006
I. Hate. Studying.

Hate it. Hate it hate it hate it hate it hate it.

Get the picture?

I spent the entire day in my room hunched over my notepad and painfully writing down the answer to yet another pointless question. I was bored out of my tiny mind for the entire day. I would have killed myself for a more interesting couple of minutes.

Thank god it's over, for the day.

"You know what I'd like to be? I mean if I had my goddam choice? I'd just be the catcher in the rye and all."

Back in action

Went back to my roots last night.

With a sword in hand and five good men by my side we traversed the treacherous path to Kryta, taking on the legions of the undead to prove our worth. I was slain more than once, but was brought back to fight at the side-lines and build my elemental skill. I saved them in turn for saving me, and we laughed and joked in merriment as we sauntered over the mountians.

The mission ended and we arrived in the safe haven of Kryta where we stood in a circle and said our goodbyes. I left with a smile, a wave, and a new friend added to my list. He sold me ten Iron Ingots for a "bargain price" of six hundred and fifty gold. After he logged off I found the same amount of Iron but for the mere price of one hundred and eighty. A had a smirk on my face as I plotted my eventual revenge.

The rush and exhiliration of the kill, the fear as my health drops to below eighty, the fufillment of finally completing the quest. I miss it, and I cannot believe I went three months without it.

I know, I'm a sad little computer geek. But I love it.

Home alone

Saturday, February 25, 2006
If you're wanting to hear about the antics of me foiling some house intruders with my carefully planned shenanigans, you'll be sorely disappointed.

I can do anything, the house is mine. I can put my music all the way up, watch whatever I want on tv, hell, I can walk around naked if I wanted to. But no, I am destined to sit here in the silence telling the infinite realm of cyberpsace about my urges to be naked.

I feel unfufilled today. I started studying for my up-and-coming prelims as I mentioned before, but I feel as if I haven't done a good job. I learned some Graphics facts before trying my hand at English. I wrote down all the quotes I needed before sticking them to my wall in a technique that was rumoured to help me know them by heart.

"poised like mud grenades"

Hmm, I think it's working.

Grpahicamation

Five minutes to go.

I've dedicated myself to doing six hours of study today, that's right, a SATURDAY. I feel like I'm breaking some sort of age old law by doing homework on the first day of relaxation, but it cannot be avoided. Graphics calls to me.

But my plight does not come with out it's rewards. For one thing, I'll hopefully have all the knowledge I need to do good on my Prelims, and the other thing being that my Mum and Brother are out for most of the night, meaning I have house to myself.

A rare occurrence, and one that I am not going to waste.

Broken time

Thursday, February 23, 2006
My watch is broken.

I broke it last night, the links flying apart after I furiously brought my fist down on my knee. The pain was momentary, gone as quick as it had came, but my watch on the other hand was lying on the floor in several pieces. I gingerly picked it up, making sure all its parts were present before rushing into an emergency operation to fix it.

This had happened once before at the Flogging Molly concert where my beloved watch collided with a person's face. I didn't notice it had broken off until Oli came up beside me and held it in front of my face. I cradled it in my hand before placing it carefully in my pocket, the re-attachment could wait until after the band. It was the same problem this time round, a small pin had bent over causing it to shake loose, causing one end of the strap to break away from the watch itself.

My watch laid limply as I tried to reconnect it's severed limb. It bravely ticked away, it's face not looking at where the hideous deformation was. I worked away for a good half hour, meticulously using my finger nails to press in the spring to fit it in. I was determined to make it work, to fix it again...

Eureka!

The pin was in place and secure. I strapped the watch on my wrist and looked at it as it ticked happily along, content with it's ability to serve it's purpose again. I smiled with it, proud of my accomplishment. I was so confident in my work that I even shook my wrist to prove it's durability to myself, a testament to my skill.

The watch landed on my carpeted floor, bouncing with a sickening chink of metal. The pin had broken, the insides splayed out beside the broken strap. The watch still lives on, counting it's days in it's incomplete form as it resides in the shadow of my pocket.

Now I need money to fix the damn thing.

On a lighter note

Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Thank you for ruining my day you fucktard.

Homework homework everywhere and not a note to... drink

Monday, February 20, 2006
Odd day.

Maybe my sense of time has been thrown out of whack with the recent holiday, but today doesn't seem like Monday. I don't know, it could be my tiredness gradually sinking in throughout the day. I feel asleep at twelve last night and I was lucky if I got a solid hour of undisturbed sleep. As a consequence I suffered during the day, my moods rapidly changing throughout from happy to sad, hyper to nodding off in English. The sensation of being incredibly happy yet profoundly sad.

And I still haven't finished any fucking homework.

Tomorrow is Tuesday, which means parking my ass on the couch in front of the Lapdancer with four hours of solitude to sort out the loose ends, or in this case, the entire rope. I'll slot a CD into the DVD player, letting the surround sound speakers work their magic on my fingers as I type up the answer to yet another question or the finish to another paragraph.

Dissertation, Drama, Textual Analysis and questions. I should be able to get it done in a short time frame. Hopefully.

The two faced bastards are at it again it seems.

Trouble is brewing among things. I know where my loyalties lie, and it's no where near them. I know I'm wrong and right at the same time.

It's confusing.

Of headaches and time travel

Sunday, February 19, 2006
Hmm.

I have a mountain of homework, namely two essays due for tomorrow, and I sit here and blog. The tv blares in the background while my mum tries to talk over it, asking once again if her dress is nice enough for the evening, taking another drag from her cigarette.

She leaves behind a mixture of perfume and smoke as she goes out the door. I turn the volume down, already feeling the threats of a headache forming behind my eyes as I scan another web page of useless information. I'm alone tonight, Chris being at work and Mum going to dinner with her work, so I have the house to myself where I can sit and do nothing in peace.

There's nothing new to see, the same old boring things time and time again. An infinite wealth of knowledge sits in front of me and there's nothing to peak my interest. And yet I am still on it, lingering on the single page that contains these words as I type them. I do little else these days. I read a few blogs, frequent a forum or two, read up on some webcomics before turning to old faithful and writing a new blog. On the odd occasion I log onto MSN and laugh with friends.

It just all seems so pointless.

My life has become something that I cannot describe. I live for the weekends, letting the weekdays pass with a blur of sickening heavy-headedness. I used to love the weekdays, seeing my friends being the highlight. The weekends were better, seeing them in real clothes and in a different scenery, with no school to weigh us down. Everything is so different now.

I don't care about the weekdays. Just let them pass quicker so I can reach Friday night. It's like a rush of relaxation, when I step off of the bus on Friday afternoons I walk home with a skip in my step and a song on my lips. But it's weird, by night time I'm worn out, and all my excitement is for nothing.

Saturdays are the best, a day of fun that I sincerely wish would not end.

Sunday is a lazy drag. An unproductive day that's used for lounging about in my room and making a sorry mistake of doing homework. I do a certain amount before slotting a DVD into my Lapdancer and reaping my 'reward'. After convincing myself that I cannot do anymore work I go downstairs and vegetate in front of the tv or interweb until I drag myself to bed.

It's all getting a bit repetitive.

When I was working over the summer I did the same job over and over. I did the same thing hundreds of times, and after the first week I fell into a type of mood. Everything was sluggish and normal. I'd spend hours refreshing pages in the hope that they had been updated in the last five minutes, clicking mindlessly on links and pictures and buttons. It seems similar to now, the repetitiveness is killing me.

I still haven't done any homework, and it's just past eleven. I feel as though I'm going to be up late trying to do my Drama essay at least. Not to mention finishing off my English stuff.

I'm sorry. I know that I've been bitching about school work a lot recently, but it's the main thing dominating my mind at the moment. Don't worry though, I have lots of problems that I want to discuss, like friends and the meaning of life and all that crap, but it'll have to wait for now.

Wish me luck.

Who we talkin' about?!

Saturday, February 18, 2006
I have some company here tonight, it's a Saturday evening and sitting here beside me is my beloved wife.

So as a change, I am going to hand over my precious lapdancer to the one I love so...

Brace yourselves.



Hmm...it's just no fun when I cant abuse this power, I would think of lots of things to type up if I thought I was going to annoy him by doing it...having permission kills the buzz. Also I cant tell u any of his dirty little secrets....don't look at me that way, its not my fault, I like the sex too much to have him fall out with me :P

As such you're going to have to accept a recap of my/his day as they are basically one in the same. Indeed Joe's day was brilliant as I was in it, I came to e.k to see him, which is far better than walking about glasgow as it comes with the added advantage of a sofa and free shelter from the rain. And the sex too...ha ha ha! Ok I promise I'll stop freaking you all out now.

Joe's telling me to describe myself...i'm rather offended by the comparison of me to a 'faceless character.' For those of you that don't know I am Joe's girlfriend, My name is Marie (not Mare as was the dedication on my valentine's day card from the boy) I am at Glasgow uni doing English Literature and Philosophy. And I have Joe completely whipped. I want to watch 'A Close Shave' now so I'll let Joe take over...sorry this was dreadfully boring but what can I say...i'm nervous, and all this touching the lapdancer has me feeling oddly sick and perverted...must dash.
Marie xxx


I didn't MEAN to write Mare... I just missed out the I by mistake.

Bricking it

Friday, February 17, 2006
Not sure what to say.

Good old Friday is here again, Mr Ramsay drowned out by the dark soundings of Placebo coming through my earphones. I should be looking over a Textual Analysis sheet right now, but since Clare didn't tell me where they were I can't, so here I am, typing this blog while something more important awaits.

Sounds familiar.

Truth is, after I finished my three thousand five hundred words for my Dissertation I've become a little more slack. Before hand I would come home from school and get right to the homework, making sure it was all done and I'm all studied up before jumping onto the interweb or watching a DVD. But these days I sit on my Lapdancer and either vegetate in front of the interweb or glue my eyes to a film I haven't seen in a while.

And now prelims are coming up. A week on Monday in fact.

I need to get my head down and learn some serious shit. I've got English on the Tuesday, Drama on the Thursday and Graphics on the Friday. Thank God we've got study leave. Yet I'm still shitting myself.

In English I've got myself a Textual Analysis and a Critical Essay to do in three hours, the essay being on either Heaney or Stevenson and the Textual Analysis is basically an essay on anything. And considering my essay skills are less than amazing I can safely assume I'm boned.

Drama is unknown. We don't know what we're doing, but I can guess that it will involve writing and essay and a directors commentary on a scene. But our prick of a teacher has given us little to no guidance on these things.

Graphics? The prelim is basically an exam paper, five or six A3 pages that include approximately ten questions and five drawings, all in three hours. I would say that I'm going to fail on that too, but Laura was unusually scary today and made me promise to get an A. Should be fun when I don't get one then.

I am not ready for these things, but if I do good in them then I'm garunteed a good mark for my final exam. So I'm determined to try and get a good mark for these.

My head is hurting.

Sweet Nothings

Thursday, February 16, 2006
"No man is an island."
-John Donne


"I feel like I've sold out."

Marie looks up at me; her eyebrows squinted in a quizzical fashion. We're walking up Buchannen Street towards the restaurant for dinner, the street shining with a faint wetness and the wind bringing a slight chill. There are couples, like us, walking up and down the street, talking with hushed tones in the cold air of the night, I look down to Marie and explain.

"I used to hate Valentines Day. It was just another day that card-companies slapped an occasion on to make money out of lovy-duvy couples. And it was another excuse for me to either feel miserable or awkward. But it's different this time round, I feel like I've sold my beliefs to be part of the lovy-duvy group, making other people jealous."

She smiled, her eyes gleaming with the artificial starlight above us, I love that smile.

The morning had passed quite well. I rose from the death of sleep on time and managed to scuttle out of the door only a few minutes late with my bag over my shoulder. I was planning on taking the twenty past one train into Glasgow, and since I left the house at quarter to twelve I gave myself plenty of time to head to the Town Centre and buy a card, and to browse about until my train arrived.

The card was a simple decision, a beige card with two swans creating a love heart, and I headed to the large queue that was populated with men scratching their heeads and counting their change. The guy in front of me, slightly older than me, grabbed a single red rose from a stack by the counter and holstered it under is arm.

"Forgot to get a gift?" I said laughingly over his shoulder.

He turned round to face me, a weak smile on his stubble-filled face. "Yeah, I was going to do it yesterday, but something came up. I think she'll like it." He looked me over, my shoulder bag on one side and my card on the other. "You forgotten a present too?"

I laughed and opened my bag to show him the present hidden inside. He looked at me with a questionable look.

"Really? I suppose it is cute."

"She'll love it, I know she will."

He paid for his card and walked off, checking his watch for the fifth time to reassure himself of the time. I paid the cashier and headed down to the train station where I sat for twenty minutes trying to figure out what to write in the card. The train arrived and I spent the entire journey scrawling my thoughts onto the small piece of cardboard while an eldery woman continually nudged me and distracted my thoughts with the pungent mix of perfume and stale sweat.

Glasgow was fun. I was early so I spent my time walking up and down streets looking at couples hand-in-hand with flowers and teddys while groups of people eyed them with malicious envy. I even went into Forbidden Planet for the first time in months to check out the latest Manga and keep my fellow geeks company. Soon enough I met up with Marie, and we hopped onto the bus to head back to her house.

We exchanged the traditional Valentines Day gifts, and I can say in all honesty right now, I have never recieved better gifts.

First off were my trousers, sexy blue jeans that we picked out together and I wore later that night; then came a little pack of chocolates that were so nice and came with a mini cuddly teddy (Toatsie is his name) that is now perched on my bed-side table; and finally my personal Scrap-book. A small book filled with words and pictures written by Marie and dedicated to me. I've read that book several times now, and it reassures my belief that those were the best sets of gifts ever.

My gifts paled in comparison. A large Heffelump teddy (Now named Jumbo) wearing my Taking Back Sunday t-shirt (Which she always liked), a ticket to go see Less Than Jake, and a drawing of Super Joe, my Marie-created alter-ego.

She loved them, hugging the Heffelump tightly and gazing at the Super Joe picture while sticking it to her wall. After a quick talk around coffee, tea and kit-kats she had a quick shower and got changed into her fancy dress while I changed into my dark-blue jeans of sex before her Mum gave us a lift down to the train station.

We arrived in Glasgow about half an hour early, at a loss of anything to do seeing as it was too late to go into anywhere. We walked the streets, the night quiet with the occasional shout or passing car and went into Starbucks before coming out again with a Hot Chocolate to fend off the cold.

When the time came we entered TGI Fridays and sat in the waiting area before being seated, basking in the comfortable heat while looking at people come and go in and out of the shivering air. We sat at our table and ordered much more than we could eat, feeling ready to explode by the time desert came. Our conversation slow and heavy with the grease of many chips.

It was colder as we left the restaurant, and I fiddled with my bag in order to get my jacket on, but was cornered in mid-maneuver by a homeless person holding a paper cup.

"Spare change sir?"

I smiled and rummaged through my pockets for my wallet, my bag hooked over my arm, and I fished out all my silvers and coppers to give the man. They made a thunk in his empty cup and he smiled his toothy grin.

"Thank you sir." He said, nodding his head.

"Sorry I don't have more." I said, searching my pockets for more change.

"Don't worry, this is great. Wrap up though, it's a cold night." And he was off, looking for someone else to beg to.

"It is cold," said Marie, rubbing her arms. I took my jacket from my arm and draped it around her shoulders so she was encompassed in its heavy warmth. She smiled and kissed my cheek.

"Incredibly corny, but I like it."

I walked her to the bus stop where we huddled under her umbrella in an attempt to stay dry under the ensuing downpour. Her bus came and with a quick kiss she left, and I walked to the train station to settle on the train and read my book with Placebo in my ears.

I may have sold out, but I'll be damned if I didn't love it.

Happy Valentines day.

Gotta catch 'em all

Sunday, February 12, 2006
Damn you Garry.

Because of him I'm sitting here right now sweltering in the heat of my living room with my big earphones on, listening to the Poke'mon theme song.

But wait! Just when you think I'm extremely sad, I need to tell you that it's actually the Poke'mon Movie theme song.

Now you can pelt me with rotten vegetables.

My day hasn't gone as planned to be honest. I was going to get a good load of homework done and relax tomorrow with a tad of homework, but it looks to be completely different. Loads of homework tomorrow and sweet fuck all today it seems. Ah well, I had fun doing nothing, so tomorrow will be my equivalent exchange.

And then on Tuesday it happens to be Valentines day. I'm actually really excited. I have the table booked, the presents all bought and ready, and the card... Is still waiting for me in the shop.

I knew there was something I needed to do on Friday... But I shall do it tomorrow.

It appears to be nine, so I'll skidaddle.

They really do

Mix-tapes rock

Damn Duracel

I have about ten minutes to write this before my Lapdancer runs out of batteries and I am left stranded with Chris in control of the remote. It isn't all bad though, I mean I LOVE heavy death metal.

Had fun yesterday. Me and Marie wanted to do something different this week instead of going to the cinema, so after researching numerous things to do, including art galleries, parks, tours and bowling, we went to the cinema.

We're so exciting.

We went to se Fun with Dick and Jane. It wasn't bad, apart from the kids who chucked M&Ms at the beginning and the NEDs who had a belching contest half way through the film.

We spent a lot of time in Starbucks and Cafe Nero just sitting and talking, Marie with her Latte and me with my stylish Hot Chocolate. I need to be more adventerous some day.

Today is going to be spent doing homework and the usual Sunday shenanigans. So is tomorrow.

I love the mid-term break.

Clawing out my eyes

Friday, February 10, 2006
"I see you baby, shaking that ass. Shaking that ass."

I remember when that song came out. I was in primary seven, a good six years ago and it was played quite often on the old wireless. It was a decent song, an ok rhythm plus the added factor of saying "ass" and having a good reason.

Why am I talking about an old, outdated song? It was shown on a new car advert accompanied by the images of shaking asses. Nice, round, very seeable asses.

Usually this would create a nice effect, I'd watch, notice the car and be inclined to by it because the shaking asses command it so. But although the images created nice viewing, it was the song that made me revolt in horror.

I'll take you back almost exactly six years to my pre-cool days of primary school, to the week long fantastical trip to Ardintinny, an outdoor activity centre on the coast of Scotland. We had fun, laughs and adventures all round, but nothing we experienced that week could prepare us for the horror of the last night.

A disco was arranged to celebrate the end of the week, and as a cleverly disguised plot to help the two schools mingle together and form friends. And of course, dancing.

My teacher at the time, a Mrs McCann, can only described as a man with a serious case of Body Odour. I know that this may sound quite harsh, but it is non-the-less true. She carried around extra strong male deoderant in her bag. Her husband, one of my old science teachers, was the same. But that's a different story.

The teachers were standing at the side, having a laugh as they discussed the terrors of their respective classes as I watched some guys from my class breakdance on the shiny smooth floor. And then the song came on, and everyones ass began to shake. I headed to the side of the dancefloor where some of my friends stood. I didn't like dancing and I wanted to get as far away from wiggling asses as possible, so I pushed through the throng of people and saw a terrible sight.

Right infront of me, not even two foot away, was Mrs McCann shaking her ass.

I stood for a second dumbfounded, frozen by the monstrosity of this sight, before running blindly towards the edge of the floor and bang my head off the wall. Yet still the memory reamains. A memeory linked to that god awful song.

I had nightmares that very night.

Nothing special

Friday is here again, and it looks like I've got a guest with me.

The Library is slightly fuller than usual, some random people have taken up my usual computer in the corner *cough*Alec*cough*, so I'm stuck in the shoddy middel one that happens to be uber slow.

Cara is beside me, she couldn't find anything else to do so she's hanging out with me to take advantage of my sexy music colection. And just to get an eye full of me.

Today was... Friday. Well done Joe.

Headed to Micky D's this morning to pig out on pancakes and sausage, watching Garry devour three breakfasts in a row. It was fun, the banter laden with syrupy goodness.

I feel as if I'm being anti-social, so I'm going to go now and I'll hopefully be able to update tonight, so I'll do that then.

Until then.

Notes about your feet

Thursday, February 09, 2006
I'm happy.

Turns out I was one of the only people who had my dissertation ready. True, I still need to write a thousand words and sort out my extra word problem, but I still had enough for the deadline. I handed over two thousand words of sexy goodness that took me the best part of three weeks to complete. Ms Harte was actually wide eyed with surprise as I showed it to her.

"You've even got footnotes and everything!"

She gave me a few tips before taking it to show Mr Fitzpatrick. I'll see him about it next week and I'll be put on the right track. Now all I need to do is sort out my crippling Graphics ability and I'm all set.

Well, after my shoddy Drama work.

Prelims are coming up, and for the first time in... ever, I want to study. I want to ace these things so I can garuntee at least a pass. Which would be good.

I'm running out of things to write.

Bah

The day of cynisism

Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Nothing happened today, but it felt like everything did.

I couldn't concentrate at all. I looked at poems, books, sheets, even my dissertation and I couldn't hold my mind on it for more than a minute. I'd look, try and then let my head fall into my hands in a tired frustration. I ran my hand through my hair and tried again before my eyes refused to read it. My mind was racing with thoughts that I didn't want to look at, and I couldn't concentrate.

But I'm better now.

Looks like Mr Fitzpatrick will have to settle with three thousand five hundred words. I couldn't concentrate on my dissertation either.

I'm in way over my head about things. I can't handle them anymore.

And I hate making angels cry.

*Cue emo music*

Give me drugs

I have a headache.

My eyes hurt when I move them, they ache when I keep them still. I can't seem to win anymore.

It's like something is pressing down on my head, compacting it into a grey-red mush. Too many thoughts are weighing down on me. I sit here and try to sort through them, but a shoddy memory and lack of intelligence prevents me from going very far.

I feel like sitting here and crying, letting the tears roll down my cheeks until they are shaken loose by sobs. But I can't do that can I? Big boys don't cry, and I being bigger than most (Coming in at six foot three inches now) need to control myself.

I should be writing a dissertation, but I can't right now.

Great, being chucked out by fucking first years.

I'll be alright soon.

I need my tipex

Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Looks like Fallout Boy are becoming more and more popular. Damn, another band I can't like anymore.

Don't get me wrong, I still like their up-beat emo music, but now I won't be able to listen t it without experiencing a violent shudder and the need to retch. Why? I bet you that, within the next two weeks, people are going to be posting their lyrics on blogs, MSN names and anywhere they can get their hands on. "CoS lIkE oMg!! It ToTaLlY iS mY lIfE!!!!11!!!"

Get me my gun.

On other news, I'm facing a problem with my dissertation. Something has happened that I never would have conceived in a million million million years.

I have too many words.

And now I run out of time. Seems like I've reverted back to my old take-half-an-hour-to-write-a-blog thing.

Until next time true believers.

Ctrl + Z

Sunday, February 05, 2006
I learned a lesson today.

After five hours working on my dissertation I had finished my five hundred words. It was easier to write than normal seeing as I knew Northern Lights much better than I knew Ruby in the Smoke, the only problem was my attention span decided to have a haircut today.

I had finished, the words gleaming in front of me in their near-perfectness and I had nothing else to do apart from pack up and head downstairs to do some ironing. The only thing stopping me was a song was playing on my CD player and I wanted to hear it out. To satisfy my fidgety hands I played about with my word document, pressing different buttons and checking the word count.

Then I held down the undo button.

Everything went away in a few flashes and I giggled inwardly at the idea of my essay retyping itself before my eyes. So stretched my fingers and pressed Ctrl and Y.

A "Y" appeared on the screen.

I looked down to the keyboard and to the fingers that were pressing down shift and Y.

"FUCK."

The undo button is not for whimsical use, it has to be respected above (most) other buttons. It may be the greatest creation of mankind, but it needs to be treated with reverence.

Here endeth the lesson.

It could be YOU

Friday, February 03, 2006
Friday is here again, and I shall not disappoint.

I am actually at home right now having neglected my blogging duties at school. I headed to the town centre with Clare instead so we could grab a lottery ticket in the vain hope of winning the cool hundred and twenty five million spondulies. We filled out the cards jokingly, both saying that there was a one in seventy million chance of winning yet both habouring a secret hope in our chests that we were that one.

"Apologies for the weird writing. I'm going to do a personal essay as part of my Creative Folio for English and I'm just getting into the practice of things."

I said to the empty room, listening to my words echo around and repeat themselves. School work was heavier these days and I often find myself speaking out in frustration at the lack of quotes or how this sentence makes no sense. The music that poured out of my speakers gave no help, instead of being flooded with calm and concentration I would be drowned in unneeded thoughts that proved minor distractions.

It was then, and only then, that I realised what an utter twat that I was sounding.

I'm thinking of regurgitating a blog or two to get myself started. They're all gold anyway, so I have nothing to except sit back and watch the A roll in.

Well, that and endless amounts of back breaking studying. That should do the trick.

I'm meeting my other half tomorrow in Glasgow. We're going to walk about and try on trousers for Valentines Day. Maybe a trip to the giant television where we'll catch the adventures of a very small piece of poultry.

Maybe.

PANCAKES!

Thursday, February 02, 2006
*scomf*

I'll order my iron lung in advance

Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Sleepiness prevents good typing

I don't even think I'm sleepy, I'm just feeling very lethargic at the moment. My body is warm, my hands are cold and my head is thick and heavy. I have my dissertation notes in front of me with Northern Lights to the left and an analysis book to my right. I had hoped to get some work done, but I guess that a hundred words are better than nothing.

Letters came in from Glasgow University on Monday. I sat on the floor of my hall and read it along with my letters from UCAS. My eyes were not deceiving me, they did say that I needed two A's. This causes a slight problem. I need two A's at Higher grade to get into university, that means two A's from the two subjects that I chose this year at Higher level, Graphics and Drama.

And now you see why I am not going to University.

I am crashing Graphics and Drama, meaning that I have to fit three years of study into one year per subject. Unless, of course, I pass Advanced English where my grade is automatically upgraded to an A at Higher level. Either way, I have a shitload of work to do, not to mention studying my ass off. I am going to have to bust a lung to get into University.

And I've already started.

In less that a week the first draft of my dissertation is due. I've put everything else on hold as I finish this off, then I have two moths to redraft before sending it off. If I make this first hurdle, then I make it.

Graphics is going well. I've started the second unit, only a few periods behind everyone else in the class, and I'm not too bad in my Thematic Presentation. Mr Mulvey and Rooney have offered their services whenever they are available, so all I need to do is ask and look over some past papers.

Drama is a problem. There's always a problem when the teacher is a fuckwit. He stands there, giving us notes while not explaining what to they are for before leaving us to do a directorial commentary. And there's an off chance that he won't be bothered to teach us so he sits on his ass on the internet while we practice out our lines for the performance section of the exam. So I'm going to have to really focus on this one.

So far I'm spending three or four hours studying when I get home from school. Add that up with dinner and calling Marie and you'll see why I haven't been on the internet recently. Today was a one-off, a quick explanation of everything that's going on before I slink away to the nonternet and fill my brain with knowledge.

It feels kinda nice to have a plan, one that I HAVE to stick to, otherwise I result in total failure and endless disappointment.

But when I set foot in that University in September I will breathe a well earned sigh of relief knowing that I've made it.