I have never been so grateful for the weekend..
Last night, there must have been about a second between my head hitting the pillow and me drifting off into dreamland. I have never been so tired in my life.I don't think that going to bed at 11.40 every night is such a good idea, as it means that I can barely keep me eyes open in school.
Anyway, last night I went to Choeun's for her 18th, where we consumed a tonne of chinese food and so, as a result, I returned home with a blood sugar that even the freestyle mini can't read. It was really great fun though, and the food was really yummy. Sarah's eyebrow particularly enjoyed the prawn crackers. Mmm prawn cracker eyebrow, nice.
I discovered on the internet that Newtown Faulkner is coming to Spring & Airbrake in December,. I would love to go see him; he has such a lovely voice. I must remember to tell my friends about it. It actually irritated me when I discovered that he wasn't hot- you just imagine him to be good-looking. total disappointment.
Caters and I have been talking about doing something exciting next summer- like maybe going to France or something, if we could get it for a reasonably cheap price. We'd never find our way about anywhere, but it would be so much fun.
School is still complete chaos. If it's not prefect duty, it's TLC, library duty, CU, Student Council or recycling warriors. It's quite annoying as it means that the whole group is rarely present for lunchtime.We do get the occasional free period together though, which, on Friday, was spent trying to keep a polystyrene cup in the air. It was so hilarious- I don't think I've ever laughed so much.
Well,I better go do some homework. Which reminds me- I still haven't done the english essay. Oh crap.
Hasta luego.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
In my dreams I'll always see you soar above the sky, in my heart there'll always be a place for you for all my life...
I've decided that I was incredibly naive in thinking that dropping Art would allow me to have a life that doesn't fully revolve around homework.
I got in from school today at 4.30 and I only really stopped working at 7.30; though I can't quite say that I worked three hours solid, because there were, of course, the occasional breaks made for bebo-stalking.
It's a good thing that I actually quite enjoy my subjects then, isn't it? If I didn't, chances are that right now I'd be leading a very dark and unhappy existance.
I've managed to cut down my personal statement, which is now ( thankfully) a few adjectives and "howevers"shorter. I am so pleased that it manages to fit inside the UCAS personal statement box- I thought I'd never be able to cut it down, and would ultimately be told that I've had to many chances at trying to squeeze it in, and so I'd have to apply next year or something.
Succinct is not my middle name. Actually, Tanya is. I often think I don't look like the type of person whose middle name would be Tanya. But I guess that it's hard to tell from a bald, whining baby what name they'd suit.
I am eventually getting my hair cut tomorrow, thank flipping goodness. If it stays like it is for any longer, I think it will most definitely fall out, or turn to straw.
This time I'm not going to make the mistake of wearing my glasses, which I have to take off when I'm getting my hair cut. I can't actually see what's happening to my hair when they're off, and so I could, blissfully unaware, end up with a mohawk or a shaved head. Not good.
I've been thinking recently about how I don't complement people enough or do nice things and, to be honest, I have no valid excuse. My goal for tomorrow, therefore, is to try to complement people because, after all, a small complement could brighten someone's day.
Today I was not in the best of forms, and would have made Victor Meldrew look cheerful. I have no idea why I was a grump machine, but I must try not to be.
I'm going to start off by actually getting some sleep and then, hopefully, I'll be in a better mood.
If that fails, as Suzie would say, there's always coffee.
I got in from school today at 4.30 and I only really stopped working at 7.30; though I can't quite say that I worked three hours solid, because there were, of course, the occasional breaks made for bebo-stalking.
It's a good thing that I actually quite enjoy my subjects then, isn't it? If I didn't, chances are that right now I'd be leading a very dark and unhappy existance.
I've managed to cut down my personal statement, which is now ( thankfully) a few adjectives and "howevers"shorter. I am so pleased that it manages to fit inside the UCAS personal statement box- I thought I'd never be able to cut it down, and would ultimately be told that I've had to many chances at trying to squeeze it in, and so I'd have to apply next year or something.
Succinct is not my middle name. Actually, Tanya is. I often think I don't look like the type of person whose middle name would be Tanya. But I guess that it's hard to tell from a bald, whining baby what name they'd suit.
I am eventually getting my hair cut tomorrow, thank flipping goodness. If it stays like it is for any longer, I think it will most definitely fall out, or turn to straw.
This time I'm not going to make the mistake of wearing my glasses, which I have to take off when I'm getting my hair cut. I can't actually see what's happening to my hair when they're off, and so I could, blissfully unaware, end up with a mohawk or a shaved head. Not good.
I've been thinking recently about how I don't complement people enough or do nice things and, to be honest, I have no valid excuse. My goal for tomorrow, therefore, is to try to complement people because, after all, a small complement could brighten someone's day.
Today I was not in the best of forms, and would have made Victor Meldrew look cheerful. I have no idea why I was a grump machine, but I must try not to be.
I'm going to start off by actually getting some sleep and then, hopefully, I'll be in a better mood.
If that fails, as Suzie would say, there's always coffee.
Friday, September 14, 2007
Dark and dusty, painted on the sky. Misty taste of moonshine, teardrops in my eye...
It's the 14th of September already. Almost two weeks have past since I returned back to stressville.
The past week and a bit have been unsurprisingly chaotic. I often wonder why I feel such an obligation to become a member of every single club that exists within Belfast High. I have, as a result of mere stupidity, left myself with one free lunchtime a week, which means that every drop of amylase my body produces will have to work doubly hard at digesting in order to keep up with the rate I'll be scoffing down my sandwiches; to get them eaten before 1.30. In some ways, the fact that I've given myself a multitude of tasks and responsibilites makes me feel like I'm actually doing something; I'm playing a part yet, on the other hand, it makes me feel guilty about not having enough time spent with my friends.
After all, your time at school is meant to be the happiest years of your life, and spending it with your close friends makes it all the more happier.
All of a sudden the reality of being on the verge of adulthood has hit me. In less than three years,I will have roamed this lovely earth for two whole decades. Last week( at least I think it was) I, along with Sarah and Fiona, was told I was Deputy Head girl. You would think, however, that it being a highly responsible position and all that, it would have some sort of visible reward other than a one-inch sized navy badge that camoflages itself against the blazer, has "deputy head girl" imprinted on it in such puny letters that you have to squint to be able to read it and is clearly overshadowed by the shininess of the larger, yet less important, prefect badge. Well, don't I sound like a bundle of optimism.
Moaning aside, I am, sincerely and truly, over the moon.
I am enjoying my new art-free, thus stress-free life at the minute, I have to admit. I can't say though that I don't miss the classes at all, because that would be a blatant lie. I always enjoyed going to art and just being able to sit and relax a bit and have a bit of banter along the way, which mainly consisted of my attempts at rapping and making fun of Miss Todd's hilarious accent, bless her.
I do not regret dropping it, though, because having twelve or thirteen free periods a week periods a week is not exactly what you'd call heart-breaking. It is, in fact, what you might call a waster's paradise and so I may need to drop my current procrastination act in an effort to avoid falling into this appealing, but somewhat dangerous trap.
* * *
I really want to try superdooperly hard this year, because I felt that having to spend every second of every hour of my life painting did slightly impinge upon my marks. Therefore, now that I have no excuse or no reason for not doing as well as I possibly could, I shall be studying like a mad man or, should I say, rather a man woman. Gosh we live in a sexist society.
My intention for tonight was to attempt ( for about the 30th time) to read "The Age of Innocence" which I have not yet found to be overly enthralling, though it is early days. I must make some sort of compromise with myself that if I don't finish it, I cannot watch TV, though the probability of that happening is pretty slim. I finished reading "La Symphonie Pastorale" tonight and it did not appear to me, on first impression, to be a particular tear-jerker, but I was clearly wrong. I struggled with preventing myself from crying, but I'm not sure whether or not the words really were filled with such great poignancy or I was just a tad over-emotional tonight, because I also managed to well up when listening to John Denver's "Take me home...". Strange specimen that I am.
* * *
Tomorrow I think I am heading to the Abbeycentre with Caters in search of some sort of poster for our wonderful study booth; like it needs more decorating.
It's weird that it's actually only 20 minutes to 11 and poor old granny me is feeling like I could close my eyelids right now and fall into dreamland.
Mmm, sleep. You appreciate it loads when you suffer from a lack of it for a prolonged period of time.
Adios.
The past week and a bit have been unsurprisingly chaotic. I often wonder why I feel such an obligation to become a member of every single club that exists within Belfast High. I have, as a result of mere stupidity, left myself with one free lunchtime a week, which means that every drop of amylase my body produces will have to work doubly hard at digesting in order to keep up with the rate I'll be scoffing down my sandwiches; to get them eaten before 1.30. In some ways, the fact that I've given myself a multitude of tasks and responsibilites makes me feel like I'm actually doing something; I'm playing a part yet, on the other hand, it makes me feel guilty about not having enough time spent with my friends.
After all, your time at school is meant to be the happiest years of your life, and spending it with your close friends makes it all the more happier.
* * *
Moaning aside, I am, sincerely and truly, over the moon.
I am enjoying my new art-free, thus stress-free life at the minute, I have to admit. I can't say though that I don't miss the classes at all, because that would be a blatant lie. I always enjoyed going to art and just being able to sit and relax a bit and have a bit of banter along the way, which mainly consisted of my attempts at rapping and making fun of Miss Todd's hilarious accent, bless her.
I do not regret dropping it, though, because having twelve or thirteen free periods a week periods a week is not exactly what you'd call heart-breaking. It is, in fact, what you might call a waster's paradise and so I may need to drop my current procrastination act in an effort to avoid falling into this appealing, but somewhat dangerous trap.
* * *
I really want to try superdooperly hard this year, because I felt that having to spend every second of every hour of my life painting did slightly impinge upon my marks. Therefore, now that I have no excuse or no reason for not doing as well as I possibly could, I shall be studying like a mad man or, should I say, rather a man woman. Gosh we live in a sexist society.
My intention for tonight was to attempt ( for about the 30th time) to read "The Age of Innocence" which I have not yet found to be overly enthralling, though it is early days. I must make some sort of compromise with myself that if I don't finish it, I cannot watch TV, though the probability of that happening is pretty slim. I finished reading "La Symphonie Pastorale" tonight and it did not appear to me, on first impression, to be a particular tear-jerker, but I was clearly wrong. I struggled with preventing myself from crying, but I'm not sure whether or not the words really were filled with such great poignancy or I was just a tad over-emotional tonight, because I also managed to well up when listening to John Denver's "Take me home...". Strange specimen that I am.
* * *
Tomorrow I think I am heading to the Abbeycentre with Caters in search of some sort of poster for our wonderful study booth; like it needs more decorating.
It's weird that it's actually only 20 minutes to 11 and poor old granny me is feeling like I could close my eyelids right now and fall into dreamland.
Mmm, sleep. You appreciate it loads when you suffer from a lack of it for a prolonged period of time.
Adios.
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Upper 6th, the story so far.
Well, the time has come to start dawdling up Prince Andrew Way every morning at an hour I didn't even know existed in the summer holidays. Last year, however, though the time may have been unearthly and highly unpleasant, I can at least say that I had no fear of falling out of my school shoes or, in fact, that my toes might burst right out of them. This year's pair seem to have a life of their own- expanding whenever they feel like it, shrinking just to confuse things and, thus, making my toes feel claustrophobic and oppressed. It's not a good time, especially considering the fact that my usual pace isn't too far off the speed of light, and so I'm finding myself tripping every so often, as I try to bolt down the road with shoes that don't even fit properly and a school bag that already has found itself full of useless crap that somehow manages to feel like I'm carrying an elephant on board.
Besides the ridiculousness of the shoe situation, school is pretty good. I'm still struggling to get my head round the idea that I am now, officially, an Upper 6th student. Upper 6th. That, to someone who ponders whether or not they have matured at all in the past three years, seems absolutely ancient. I don't feel worthy of telling 16- year- olds to move up the bus or to fix their uniform. It's not like they'd listen to me anyway, especially since my uniform would be a mess too, if I were not such a geek that panicked at the prospect of receiving a school detention. It would be pretty heart-breaking considering I've passed 13 years of my school life without getting one.
The absolute highlight of my school term so far has, without a doubt, been decorating mine and Cateroo's study booth, sad though it may sound to a non-geekish audience. It is, in fact, the absolute epitome of geek- from the evidence that we were loserish enough to create a game called the "shutty eye game", on the wall to the not so inconspicuous printed quote " embrace the geek" written down the side of the booth as a visible reminder to everyone of our favourite motto. It is, as a result of lots of hard work by myself and the other half, a very attractive, yet slightly OTT, booth and, as Helen might put it, a little treat for the eye.
Right now I am wondering why it is midnight and I am online, typing a blog. I'll be surprised if I manage to keep my eyelids from closing tomorrow morning while walking down the road.
Good luck with that, self.
goodnight.
P.S. My lunch spilled over my english books, causing the spines to become torn and withered looking, which I was rather gutted about, considering that I only got them today. :(
I am a disaster.
:)
Besides the ridiculousness of the shoe situation, school is pretty good. I'm still struggling to get my head round the idea that I am now, officially, an Upper 6th student. Upper 6th. That, to someone who ponders whether or not they have matured at all in the past three years, seems absolutely ancient. I don't feel worthy of telling 16- year- olds to move up the bus or to fix their uniform. It's not like they'd listen to me anyway, especially since my uniform would be a mess too, if I were not such a geek that panicked at the prospect of receiving a school detention. It would be pretty heart-breaking considering I've passed 13 years of my school life without getting one.
The absolute highlight of my school term so far has, without a doubt, been decorating mine and Cateroo's study booth, sad though it may sound to a non-geekish audience. It is, in fact, the absolute epitome of geek- from the evidence that we were loserish enough to create a game called the "shutty eye game", on the wall to the not so inconspicuous printed quote " embrace the geek" written down the side of the booth as a visible reminder to everyone of our favourite motto. It is, as a result of lots of hard work by myself and the other half, a very attractive, yet slightly OTT, booth and, as Helen might put it, a little treat for the eye.
Right now I am wondering why it is midnight and I am online, typing a blog. I'll be surprised if I manage to keep my eyelids from closing tomorrow morning while walking down the road.
Good luck with that, self.
goodnight.
P.S. My lunch spilled over my english books, causing the spines to become torn and withered looking, which I was rather gutted about, considering that I only got them today. :(
I am a disaster.
:)
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