Wednesday, 23 March 2011

You Know There Are Problems When You Shout Obscenities At People For Being Happy

Is it somewhere within the university policy that they must make the library either a) Too hot (and I don't mean slightly warm, I mean dog-in-a-hot-car, sweat patched, blistering heat), b) Too loud (i.e. foreign man singing loudly along to Celine Dion), or c) Too quiet (so if your squeaky chair makes any kind of odd noise everyone looks over at you in disgust)? These are just a few of the main reasons I prefer to stay at home and do my work from the comfort of my own bedroom where I can procrastinate to my heart's content, eat bananas without feeling awkward, and not have to hurriedly close my internet browser when I innocently go onto someone's blog and suddenly a page full of naked women appear as if from nowhere. Speaking of naked women (as I so often do), I forget how much soft porn there is in tabloid newspapers these days. I had to buy a selection for my dissertation (always the excuse) and was shocked to my conservative core at suddenly coming face to... well, breast, with a variety of different women, all of whom looked about 12 and yet had breasts the size of an American child's head. I went to the liberty of cutting them out and pinning them to the walls of my housemate's bedroom, a nice little treat for her I thought. Always thinking of others. Apparently Daisy, 19, from Wigan was not her cup of tea, however. (Well, she says that, but I didn't see her taking them down in an awful hurry and I'm pretty certain they're still up).

This week started off extremely well with a visit from Jayne who has graced us all with her presence as a result of her turning 21, which is apparently, not a cause for celebration: "Happy birthday! How does it feel to be 21?" "Shit. I hate this birthday." Still, we are going to go and get drunk anyway, because that is what we do. (Well, what I do, she may have to go home and be tucked up in bed by 9 with a hot water bottle and a cup of cocoa). Peter's birthday was also this week; I gathered from his, "I got your card... Thanks..." that he was not as impressed with it as I was. It had "BLANK INSIDE" scrawled across the front (already funny) and then I had literally left if blank inside and posted it to Bradford (even funnier). Seriously, who wouldn't want me as a girlfriend? I am a hoot. 

The week has slowly gone downhill, however, as my workload is continuing to climb and my motivation (both to work and live) has steadily dwindled. In an attempt to be scholarly and do some work, I headed out of my house this morning only to realise it was probably the sunniest day of the year so far and I was going to be spending it sweating to death in the library. I saw a gathering of carefree first years on the way, basking in the sun and making no attempt to hide the fact that they were happy and loving life. It took all the self restraint I had not to run over and punch them all in the face, so I settled with a "FUCK YOU ALL, I HOPE YOU GET SUNBURNT AND FAIL ALL YOUR EXAMS!" and went on my merry way. 

Wednesday, 16 March 2011

Yes Thank You, Census, I Speak Excellent English...

I have roughly around two weeks to get all my assignments finished. Two weeks. That's 14 measly days. Why do I always leave things to the last minute? I think the pressure urges me to work harder. Sort of like the other night when I had to run home from Belinda's as fast as I could (which is still relatively slow) as there was apparently an odd man driving around and grabbing innocent citizens. I'm pretty certain though that had he seen me, floundering along like a beached whale making a desperate attempt to return to the water after being washed ashore, he would have continued driving - probably increasing his speed as he did so. But, apparently I produce better writing when I am sat in my bedroom at 3am, surrounded by books, soaked in a cold sweat and on the verge of several rippling panic attacks. I wish my brain was cut out for academia. It amazes me how I can watch one episode of Friends and somehow have the entire twenty minutes memorised (my housemates especially love this gift) and yet, when I spend all day reading an article over and over I still can't take any of it in. It seems the older I get the harder it is to just "get by" in life. My stunning good looks and slender 26 inch waist will not last forever. I remember when I was taking my GCSEs - I sat in an exam for literally forty minutes, lording over everyone around me because I had already finished only to realise that there was a question on the other side of the paper. Not only was it worrying in regards to my grades, but it was also pretty humiliating as the people surrounding me were clearly aware of my mistake and spent the remaining ten minutes smirking at each other whilst they wrote obscenities on their desks.
Anyway, as I was saying, pressure. It's not fully set in yet, so my work isn't the best it could be. Or at least, that's what I gathered as I sat at my desk chair picking chewing gum off it for a good ten minutes. (I'm not entirely sure how it even ended up there - I think I must have gone to sleep chewing it, and then in a sudden fit of self-preservation decided to take it out and stick it on my chair to stop myself choking...). I then spent a further half an hour making a lasso out of the pulley system on my blinds and roping in my window instead of standing up and closing it like any normal human being. The self-satisfaction I felt after finally doing it was definitely worth it though. It was a good self esteem booster as I was at the time feeling pretty stupid after entering the wrong ethnicity on the census form... They should really spread the boxes a little bit further apart from each other. I also made the mistake of declaring that I spoke extremely good English (and feeling quite proud about it), only to then be told that that section was only meant for people whose first language was not English... You start to question your own intelligence when it's necessary to get someone to proof read your census.