So I finally got around to my non-alcoholic post-exams treat this week. Helen and I went to Westminster Abbey on Tuesday.
Wow.
Granted, I was a bit hopped up on coffee after only getting a couple of hours' sleep the night before, but walking up to the entrance I felt like we'd been driving all morning to get to Magic Mountain ("I wanna go on Goliath first. No, Superman. No, X. No, Colossus...etc. etc.). I was so excited to get inside and see everything I kept hopping around and giggling and generally behaving like a complete goober.
Doesn't help that gorgeous huge old churches usually do a number on me anyway.
The Brittany Grin inadvertently won over one of the vergers (one of the sort of wandering helper people/tour guides). He was a nice older English chap who found out for us that the day's communion service was going to be held in the adjoining chapel because there was a rehearsal that afternoon for an upcoming concert. He also clued us in to a good pub nearby that we could grab a decent lunch at, though he mentioned he was sad he couldn't join us because he didn't have time (he was over 35, thus the Brittany Grin worked its full charming magic. And I was also so bubbly and happy to just be inside the church that I'm sure the Grin was even more potent than usual). As it turns out, the rehearsal was for an upcoming baroque music festival. Helen and I decided to forego taking communion in favor of sticking around for the rehearsal (had to pick up Conrad later that evening and wanted to maximize the time we spent inside the abbey).
I won't get into all the different historical figures whose graves we saw, or how amazing the stained glass windows were, or how completely awestruck we were by the vaulted ceilings. You just have to go and see for yourself.
The rehearsal was amazing. Chamber orchestra covering some Handel pieces. I almost cried. Again. And full goosebumps.
Went window shopping afterwards and found a good place to buy my underthings (hooray for cute bras for big boobs at reasonable prices!).
The evening with Conrad and his friend Jack didn't go so well, but I don't entirely feel like getting into that right now. It wasn't a total loss as I got to meet Jack's babysitter/swim instructor. I mean wow. I was actually speechless when I opened the door. I stammered. It was hysterically funny. Then he started asking questions about me. Lordy. A Polish Adonis. Made all the hell of dealing with Jack worth it.
I've been in sole charge of Conrad since Tuesday as well. Julian is still filming in Berlin and Sonja had to go to Rome and then Morocco. We didn't finally patch up things from the disaster of Jack's visit until Thursday evening, so it was a bit rough for a while.
Olie came round today for a Spongebob marathon. I made us a nice lunch and he came with me to pick up the kid. We continued with Spongebob after we got back, and Conrad went outside to play with the neighbor kids. Once they discovered we were watching Spongebob, all the kids joined me and Olie on the couch. Five kids and us. I had one on my lap. It was beyond adorable. I am such a sucker for kids. When they're behaving themselves.
Conrad and I went to dinner later on with Neighbor Clare and her daughter Anoud. Terrible service at the restaurant, but great food, great wine, and I splurged on a slice of cheesecake. Walking back, both kids attacked me and tried to shove me into every hedge we passed. We all shrieked and giggled and had a good time. We'd decided at dinner that Anoud was going to have a sleepover at our house, so Clare and I had a glass of wine in the garden before putting the kids to bed.
But it's 11:30 now and both of them are still awake. I've just now managed to talk them into going back to bed (instead of lounging around on my bed). Oh no wait. They're back.
Anyway. I suppose I just want to say that as much as my job drives me nuts and I want to quit some days, I really genuinely do love parts of it. It's sad that both the parents have to be away for me and Conrad to have a good time, but so it goes. I think it was Olie that was shocked when I said that I still want kids of my own. He couldn't believe that I'd want to deal with it with multiple children for eighteen-plus years after the nightmares I've been through in barely one year with one ten-year-old. And to be fair, I understand where he's coming from. But right now, with both kids being so charmingly cheeky about staying up late even though I know they're both absolutely knackered (and especially since I had to go up there and tuck Anoud into bed since that's what she's used to), I can totally see myself doing the same with a couple of my own. And loving (almost) every minute of it.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Does rollerskating in London pose particular problems?
Okay, so maybe having that shot of tequila with my classmates earlier in order to celebrate ALL of us being done with exams wasn't the best idea. Especially since I've decided to join Sonja on the South Beach Diet and hadn't eaten anything since scrambled eggs this morning. But then again, how was I to know that events would unfold in the manner they did on the way back from picking up Conrad?
I got back from the pub with time to spare, so I figured I'd strap on the skates to go and get him since the sun decided to re-appear after a rather dismal morning. As I skated up the road to his school, I thought that today would be a good day to possibly post up a blog about the silly things that always seem to transpire when I skate from place to place.
Mainly, people like to stare. For a lot of different reasons. Guys young and old leer at me, but that's a given due to the fact that rollerskating often puts one in a position that's sort of half bent over, and if I happen to make the mistake of wearing a lower-cut top, I suppose the ogling is understandable. I get kindly smiles from soccer moms in their hatchbacks, who I figure are re-living their younger years or something (although I'm not sure how as the neighborhoods here aren't really conducive to skating around with your friends in the summer, nor are there really any roller rinks). Sometimes grandpas smile at me in a way that makes me think they'd really like to wink but aren't sure whether I'd notice as I breeze past, frantically pumping my legs against the asphalt since I'm usually running late for wherever I'm meant to be at. Without fail, all the little kids I go past are perplexed. I've yet to see anyone else on skates (though I have seen a few rollerbladers...lame), so I understand why the children are confused.
And then there are the people that stare at me like they've never seen a person wearing any sort of shoe with wheels attached. Or the people that can't seem to figure out how exactly the whole rollerskating thing works. Or the people that glance up, realize I'm on skates, then return to the London stare (directly at the sidewalk with sporadic glances up to avoid collisions). Inevitably, these three types of people will proceed to barrel down the middle of the narrow sidewalk, leaving me no choice but to slow to an almost-stop in order to let them by. Let's think about this for a moment. You, a normal pedestrian, see a solidly-built girl about 5'8" heading downhill on the sidewalk towards you with a decent amount of speed built up. My first thought would be "Holy crap! I don't know if she can stop on those things!", after which I'd promptly try to hug the nearest wall as closely as possible in order to avoid being run down by this crazy moose woman on skates. But apparently some Londoners are either too arrogant (or stupid) for this thought to cross their minds. So I slow down and give way, but it's always a bitch to get moving again, especially if the sidewalk is rough or if I'm going uphill. Pretentious joggers and power-walkers also seem to expect me to move out of their way. I feel like pointing out to them skating uphill probably burns more calories than running uphill, and that because the sidewalks and roads are rarely nice and smooth, the only time I don't have to work at moving forwards is the downhill bit of Alderbrook Road, where I catch so much downhill speed it sort of scares me. Especially if there are oncoming cars.
Cars. Another fun bit of skating. When going to get Conrad (and indeed, any time I'm on a residential street), I generally stick to skating on the road. Residential streets tend to have sidewalks made of paving stones (which are really just big concrete slabs), that tree roots and life in general have made very uneven. Unlike the pedestrians that seem intent on playing chicken with yours truly, I realize a car will hurt me more than I could hurt it, so I get the hell out of the way. I get the same sorts of stares from drivers as I do from pedestrians, although the soccer moms are more annoying in that they slow down to really draw the nostalgic moment out. Again, I'm usually running late (that's why I'm skating, I can move faster), so idling past me as I've respectfully pulled off to the side to let you pass is making me later still. I always giggle a bit when I get the polite "thanks for letting me pass" wave (as though I were another car or a cyclist), and I'm really surprised nobody has honked at me yet because I'm in the way. Then again, I am pretty vigilant in keeping my eyes and ears out for approaching cars, so it's rare that I haven't skated out of the way long before they get close enough to overtake me.
Overall, I like skating because I get where I need to be just a little bit quicker and it's better exercise than just walking (plus I'm hoping it'll tone my backside up a bit to the point where I might just actually have an ass and can stop worrying about just my hips holding up my jeans). And when the sun is shining I can close my eyes (just for the briefest of moments, safety first), and imagine that I'm back at Doheny, skating to the marina for an ice cream. Plus, Conrad really seems to get a kick out of me picking him up in skates. The parents, teachers, and other nannies look at me funny (a lot of the creepy dads leer), but he always seems to give me a happier hug when I'm in skates.
He also really enjoys grabbing one of my hands and towing me down the road. Which brings me to today's unfortunate turn of events. There are two stretches of the trip where I'm forced to navigate the sidewalks: the very last bit before his school on Brompton Road and the section down Nightingale Lane. While being a residential road, Brompton also sees quite a bit of traffic, including buses and bigger delivery vans. The bit I have to go on the sidewalk for is paved with bricks and pretty flat, so it's not difficult to manage provided some conceited mother isn't gallivanting right smack dab down the center of the sidewalk with her double-wide stroller. Nightingale Lane is also bricked, but is full of little hills and valleys that require extra attention on my part to keep from biffing it and falling. The valleys make for some very tempting puddles after a rain, though I've yet to skate through one. Nightingale is also a main road, and it was scary enough riding Neighbor Clare's bike there the other morning as I was rushing Conrad's forgotten PE equipment to him, let alone trying to share the road with roller skates on.
For whatever reason, Conrad decides today that he's going to tow me down the Nightingale Lane section of our walk home. At a run. For a 10-year-old, he's got a pretty strong grip, and we picked up enough speed to make it slightly unwise for me to forcibly rip my hand from his. And although I was screaming at him to let go of me, he ignored me completely and kept going (not that he has a habit of ignoring me completely). I manage to keep myself together for the hills, valleys, and the one bit with broken glass before he finally lets go of my hand. Right before the sidewalk narrows and one of those big rectangular metal cover thingies takes up most of the available sidewalk (you know, where the water/gas/cable or whatever company hides their big shutoff switches for your block). There's not enough time to stop, so I bend my knees and try to coast over the knobbly metal cover and the raised concrete lip that's around it. I didn't even make it over the lip.
The last time I fell on these skates I was attempting to skate on a dirt path despite being ridiculously tequila hungover and thus very wobbly. I lost my balance and landed hard on my ass. Every time I've almost fallen (but managed to save myself at the last moment due to my catlike poise and reflexes...meow), it's also been something that would've resulted in me winding up on my backside. For me, skating is not coupled with a worry of faceplanting. I'm constantly concerned I may wind up on my ass.
Unless I've just been towed into the sidewalk obstacle from hell. Then apparently my only available option is to literally belly flop onto the pavement. Literally. Belly flop. Like you used to do into the pool when you still thought it was funny to have your stomach sting for half an hour afterwards. Did I mention that Nightingale Lane always has a decent amount of traffic? Especially after 4-ish and rush hour starts to pick up. Both pedestrian and motor traffic. Some guys in a delivery van were especially amused, and while I didn't actually see them, I'm sure they were hanging out their windows as they drove past, hooting and hollering and laughing and cheering at me in all my humiliated glory. Conrad was laughing too, and made no effort to help me up from my inert face-down position. Great.
I suppose the upside is that I didn't get any scrapes or injuries (although I've got a wicked headache right now), and to be fair, I did laugh a bit once my legs got steady enough to start skating again. Will this tragic event persuade me to hang up my skates? Probably not. You might be thinking I brought it on myself, letting a kid drag me down sidewalk, and you're probably right. I think it also was my comeuppance for bragging about my skating abilities at the pub earlier (I was trying to rally people to go to the roller disco with me, and I thought if I pointed out how good I was and thus could teach them how, they might go). Regardless, this is still nowhere near as painful and bad as that time I let my friend TJ push me down that park sidewalk in a shopping cart.
One day I'll learn. Maybe.
I got back from the pub with time to spare, so I figured I'd strap on the skates to go and get him since the sun decided to re-appear after a rather dismal morning. As I skated up the road to his school, I thought that today would be a good day to possibly post up a blog about the silly things that always seem to transpire when I skate from place to place.
Mainly, people like to stare. For a lot of different reasons. Guys young and old leer at me, but that's a given due to the fact that rollerskating often puts one in a position that's sort of half bent over, and if I happen to make the mistake of wearing a lower-cut top, I suppose the ogling is understandable. I get kindly smiles from soccer moms in their hatchbacks, who I figure are re-living their younger years or something (although I'm not sure how as the neighborhoods here aren't really conducive to skating around with your friends in the summer, nor are there really any roller rinks). Sometimes grandpas smile at me in a way that makes me think they'd really like to wink but aren't sure whether I'd notice as I breeze past, frantically pumping my legs against the asphalt since I'm usually running late for wherever I'm meant to be at. Without fail, all the little kids I go past are perplexed. I've yet to see anyone else on skates (though I have seen a few rollerbladers...lame), so I understand why the children are confused.
And then there are the people that stare at me like they've never seen a person wearing any sort of shoe with wheels attached. Or the people that can't seem to figure out how exactly the whole rollerskating thing works. Or the people that glance up, realize I'm on skates, then return to the London stare (directly at the sidewalk with sporadic glances up to avoid collisions). Inevitably, these three types of people will proceed to barrel down the middle of the narrow sidewalk, leaving me no choice but to slow to an almost-stop in order to let them by. Let's think about this for a moment. You, a normal pedestrian, see a solidly-built girl about 5'8" heading downhill on the sidewalk towards you with a decent amount of speed built up. My first thought would be "Holy crap! I don't know if she can stop on those things!", after which I'd promptly try to hug the nearest wall as closely as possible in order to avoid being run down by this crazy moose woman on skates. But apparently some Londoners are either too arrogant (or stupid) for this thought to cross their minds. So I slow down and give way, but it's always a bitch to get moving again, especially if the sidewalk is rough or if I'm going uphill. Pretentious joggers and power-walkers also seem to expect me to move out of their way. I feel like pointing out to them skating uphill probably burns more calories than running uphill, and that because the sidewalks and roads are rarely nice and smooth, the only time I don't have to work at moving forwards is the downhill bit of Alderbrook Road, where I catch so much downhill speed it sort of scares me. Especially if there are oncoming cars.
Cars. Another fun bit of skating. When going to get Conrad (and indeed, any time I'm on a residential street), I generally stick to skating on the road. Residential streets tend to have sidewalks made of paving stones (which are really just big concrete slabs), that tree roots and life in general have made very uneven. Unlike the pedestrians that seem intent on playing chicken with yours truly, I realize a car will hurt me more than I could hurt it, so I get the hell out of the way. I get the same sorts of stares from drivers as I do from pedestrians, although the soccer moms are more annoying in that they slow down to really draw the nostalgic moment out. Again, I'm usually running late (that's why I'm skating, I can move faster), so idling past me as I've respectfully pulled off to the side to let you pass is making me later still. I always giggle a bit when I get the polite "thanks for letting me pass" wave (as though I were another car or a cyclist), and I'm really surprised nobody has honked at me yet because I'm in the way. Then again, I am pretty vigilant in keeping my eyes and ears out for approaching cars, so it's rare that I haven't skated out of the way long before they get close enough to overtake me.
Overall, I like skating because I get where I need to be just a little bit quicker and it's better exercise than just walking (plus I'm hoping it'll tone my backside up a bit to the point where I might just actually have an ass and can stop worrying about just my hips holding up my jeans). And when the sun is shining I can close my eyes (just for the briefest of moments, safety first), and imagine that I'm back at Doheny, skating to the marina for an ice cream. Plus, Conrad really seems to get a kick out of me picking him up in skates. The parents, teachers, and other nannies look at me funny (a lot of the creepy dads leer), but he always seems to give me a happier hug when I'm in skates.
He also really enjoys grabbing one of my hands and towing me down the road. Which brings me to today's unfortunate turn of events. There are two stretches of the trip where I'm forced to navigate the sidewalks: the very last bit before his school on Brompton Road and the section down Nightingale Lane. While being a residential road, Brompton also sees quite a bit of traffic, including buses and bigger delivery vans. The bit I have to go on the sidewalk for is paved with bricks and pretty flat, so it's not difficult to manage provided some conceited mother isn't gallivanting right smack dab down the center of the sidewalk with her double-wide stroller. Nightingale Lane is also bricked, but is full of little hills and valleys that require extra attention on my part to keep from biffing it and falling. The valleys make for some very tempting puddles after a rain, though I've yet to skate through one. Nightingale is also a main road, and it was scary enough riding Neighbor Clare's bike there the other morning as I was rushing Conrad's forgotten PE equipment to him, let alone trying to share the road with roller skates on.
For whatever reason, Conrad decides today that he's going to tow me down the Nightingale Lane section of our walk home. At a run. For a 10-year-old, he's got a pretty strong grip, and we picked up enough speed to make it slightly unwise for me to forcibly rip my hand from his. And although I was screaming at him to let go of me, he ignored me completely and kept going (not that he has a habit of ignoring me completely). I manage to keep myself together for the hills, valleys, and the one bit with broken glass before he finally lets go of my hand. Right before the sidewalk narrows and one of those big rectangular metal cover thingies takes up most of the available sidewalk (you know, where the water/gas/cable or whatever company hides their big shutoff switches for your block). There's not enough time to stop, so I bend my knees and try to coast over the knobbly metal cover and the raised concrete lip that's around it. I didn't even make it over the lip.
The last time I fell on these skates I was attempting to skate on a dirt path despite being ridiculously tequila hungover and thus very wobbly. I lost my balance and landed hard on my ass. Every time I've almost fallen (but managed to save myself at the last moment due to my catlike poise and reflexes...meow), it's also been something that would've resulted in me winding up on my backside. For me, skating is not coupled with a worry of faceplanting. I'm constantly concerned I may wind up on my ass.
Unless I've just been towed into the sidewalk obstacle from hell. Then apparently my only available option is to literally belly flop onto the pavement. Literally. Belly flop. Like you used to do into the pool when you still thought it was funny to have your stomach sting for half an hour afterwards. Did I mention that Nightingale Lane always has a decent amount of traffic? Especially after 4-ish and rush hour starts to pick up. Both pedestrian and motor traffic. Some guys in a delivery van were especially amused, and while I didn't actually see them, I'm sure they were hanging out their windows as they drove past, hooting and hollering and laughing and cheering at me in all my humiliated glory. Conrad was laughing too, and made no effort to help me up from my inert face-down position. Great.
I suppose the upside is that I didn't get any scrapes or injuries (although I've got a wicked headache right now), and to be fair, I did laugh a bit once my legs got steady enough to start skating again. Will this tragic event persuade me to hang up my skates? Probably not. You might be thinking I brought it on myself, letting a kid drag me down sidewalk, and you're probably right. I think it also was my comeuppance for bragging about my skating abilities at the pub earlier (I was trying to rally people to go to the roller disco with me, and I thought if I pointed out how good I was and thus could teach them how, they might go). Regardless, this is still nowhere near as painful and bad as that time I let my friend TJ push me down that park sidewalk in a shopping cart.
One day I'll learn. Maybe.
Monday, May 12, 2008
It's really over...
SCHOOL IS DONE!
Has been since last Thursday, but I've been so caught up in celebrating and winding down that I've not really been on the computer. Just got back from taking Conrad to school and the sun hasn't completely hit the garden yet, so I'm resolved to sit down and talk about the wonder and majesty that are final exams at Goldsmiths.
I wasn't nervous about my medieval history class. My friend Olie and I spent nearly a month studying for it, and it was gorgeously sunny that morning (allowing me to wear a sun dress and flip flops), so I was ridiculously calm going into it. So much so that Sonja was concerned. But to be fair, I really can't get worked up about things when the sun is showing itself for the first time in WEEKS...
Anyway. Exam-taking here is a curious affair. I'm used to having to run to the student bookstore first and stock up on Scantrons and blue books, but they provide all that for you. You also can't bring in any bags or coats or anything, and you have to empty your pockets into these chintzy little white plastic bags, tie them securely, then leave it all under your desk for the duration of the exam. You can have a bottle of water and extra pens and such, and it goes without saying that your cell phone has to be shut off. Both of my exams took place in the Great Hall, which is obviously this big room in the main building. I was surprised to notice they have a pipe organ in the front as well as choir seating thingies up on a big stage. The floor is lined with rows of individual desks, and since there are multiple classes taking their exam in there with you, after walking in you have to first find your class, then walk up the rows and find the desk that has your name on it. There are a bunch of teacher-types wandering around (their official name is "exam invigilators"...how ridiculous is that?), and the head one reads off the important announcement things (i.e.: DON'T CHEAT), and then you're off.
My medieval exam was only a two-hour essay deal. Thirteen questions, pick two, write two essays. As I looked over the questions, I realized I could've gotten away with a massive three-day study blitz and been fine. Oh well. I don't think I've ever been able to say that I've been over-prepared for a final before. Wrote an essay on mendicant orders and another about the "fall" of the Roman Empire. Finished about fifteen minutes early and just sat and stared. Tried to avoid eye contact with the scary teacher who I'm sure I've mentioned before. Olie and I then treated ourselves to a quick bit of shopping (I wandered into a Claire's for the first time in ages and got a cute pair of earrings as well as some ridiculous High School Musical socks Olie talked me into). Had a pint to celebrate being half done, went home and my brain turned to mush so I called it an early night.
Got up the next morning and was greeted by more gorgeous sunlight, so after taking Conrad to school I got my books and my bathing suit and sat in the back garden all day, listening to music and chatting on IM. Good times. Got a teensy bit of a sunburn that morphed into a nice tan the next day.
Woke up the next morning to even more sunlight but sadly had no more sundresses to wear, so I opted for cutoffs and a t-shirt and headed off to school after dropping off Conrad. About halfway there my stomach tied itself in knots and I almost threw up. Apparently my head decided to be nervous about the English exam. Ridiculous. English exams have always been easy. This one, however, is a three-hour monster. Have to pick one essay topic from three different sections and write an essay for each, without using any one piece of literature that we'd covered in more than just one essay. Sweet. Wrote one about Homer, one about Strindberg, and one about Atwood and Brookmyre (great essay on the functions of mockery in a text...kept wanting to use the phrase "taking the piss", but thankfully managed to avoid doing so). Finished fifteen minutes early again, did a doodle on the back of the question booklet, then strode out of there a bit weak-kneed since all the school stress was attempting to leave my body at once (which wouldn't have normally been a problem except that I think that stress was all that was keeping me going by the end...). I was actually shaking as we all congregated outside the Great Hall while deciding which pub to go to.
Wound up at the Hobgoblin, where I wound up being the only one of the group that was completely done with finals. Had a good time sitting in the sunny beer garden out back. And thus it came to pass that I was completely done with school.
Didn't actually get to properly celebrate until Friday night since Sonja was out of town the night of my last final. The weather was still nice on Friday, so I joined a bunch of classmates in the grassy courtyard of one of the dorm halls and hung out for hours. Went back to Olie's flat later that night for a dance party, which lasted until the sun came up, so we abandoned the dance party to go and find a field from which to watch the sun rise. Pictures and video on facebook. Got home at about 7:30 Saturday morning. Surprisingly, didn't actually drink that much. In fact, the bottle of vodka I brought with me never even got opened. Just good times with good folks. Made a couple of new friends too.
So now I'm trying to adjust to having nothing to occupy my day other than housework. I've ordered my textbook for the Old English class I'm taking next year, so I think I'm going to get a jump start on that as well as start teaching myself Latin. Exciting stuff. Especially Latin. I've already read two books since Saturday, and I'm probably going to raid Sonja's library for more tomorrow. Especially since the weather is still supposed to be nice and I have no intention of leaving the house.
Anyway. Time to go. More about the situation my job has evolved into later. Maybe tomorrow night.
Has been since last Thursday, but I've been so caught up in celebrating and winding down that I've not really been on the computer. Just got back from taking Conrad to school and the sun hasn't completely hit the garden yet, so I'm resolved to sit down and talk about the wonder and majesty that are final exams at Goldsmiths.
I wasn't nervous about my medieval history class. My friend Olie and I spent nearly a month studying for it, and it was gorgeously sunny that morning (allowing me to wear a sun dress and flip flops), so I was ridiculously calm going into it. So much so that Sonja was concerned. But to be fair, I really can't get worked up about things when the sun is showing itself for the first time in WEEKS...
Anyway. Exam-taking here is a curious affair. I'm used to having to run to the student bookstore first and stock up on Scantrons and blue books, but they provide all that for you. You also can't bring in any bags or coats or anything, and you have to empty your pockets into these chintzy little white plastic bags, tie them securely, then leave it all under your desk for the duration of the exam. You can have a bottle of water and extra pens and such, and it goes without saying that your cell phone has to be shut off. Both of my exams took place in the Great Hall, which is obviously this big room in the main building. I was surprised to notice they have a pipe organ in the front as well as choir seating thingies up on a big stage. The floor is lined with rows of individual desks, and since there are multiple classes taking their exam in there with you, after walking in you have to first find your class, then walk up the rows and find the desk that has your name on it. There are a bunch of teacher-types wandering around (their official name is "exam invigilators"...how ridiculous is that?), and the head one reads off the important announcement things (i.e.: DON'T CHEAT), and then you're off.
My medieval exam was only a two-hour essay deal. Thirteen questions, pick two, write two essays. As I looked over the questions, I realized I could've gotten away with a massive three-day study blitz and been fine. Oh well. I don't think I've ever been able to say that I've been over-prepared for a final before. Wrote an essay on mendicant orders and another about the "fall" of the Roman Empire. Finished about fifteen minutes early and just sat and stared. Tried to avoid eye contact with the scary teacher who I'm sure I've mentioned before. Olie and I then treated ourselves to a quick bit of shopping (I wandered into a Claire's for the first time in ages and got a cute pair of earrings as well as some ridiculous High School Musical socks Olie talked me into). Had a pint to celebrate being half done, went home and my brain turned to mush so I called it an early night.
Got up the next morning and was greeted by more gorgeous sunlight, so after taking Conrad to school I got my books and my bathing suit and sat in the back garden all day, listening to music and chatting on IM. Good times. Got a teensy bit of a sunburn that morphed into a nice tan the next day.
Woke up the next morning to even more sunlight but sadly had no more sundresses to wear, so I opted for cutoffs and a t-shirt and headed off to school after dropping off Conrad. About halfway there my stomach tied itself in knots and I almost threw up. Apparently my head decided to be nervous about the English exam. Ridiculous. English exams have always been easy. This one, however, is a three-hour monster. Have to pick one essay topic from three different sections and write an essay for each, without using any one piece of literature that we'd covered in more than just one essay. Sweet. Wrote one about Homer, one about Strindberg, and one about Atwood and Brookmyre (great essay on the functions of mockery in a text...kept wanting to use the phrase "taking the piss", but thankfully managed to avoid doing so). Finished fifteen minutes early again, did a doodle on the back of the question booklet, then strode out of there a bit weak-kneed since all the school stress was attempting to leave my body at once (which wouldn't have normally been a problem except that I think that stress was all that was keeping me going by the end...). I was actually shaking as we all congregated outside the Great Hall while deciding which pub to go to.
Wound up at the Hobgoblin, where I wound up being the only one of the group that was completely done with finals. Had a good time sitting in the sunny beer garden out back. And thus it came to pass that I was completely done with school.
Didn't actually get to properly celebrate until Friday night since Sonja was out of town the night of my last final. The weather was still nice on Friday, so I joined a bunch of classmates in the grassy courtyard of one of the dorm halls and hung out for hours. Went back to Olie's flat later that night for a dance party, which lasted until the sun came up, so we abandoned the dance party to go and find a field from which to watch the sun rise. Pictures and video on facebook. Got home at about 7:30 Saturday morning. Surprisingly, didn't actually drink that much. In fact, the bottle of vodka I brought with me never even got opened. Just good times with good folks. Made a couple of new friends too.
So now I'm trying to adjust to having nothing to occupy my day other than housework. I've ordered my textbook for the Old English class I'm taking next year, so I think I'm going to get a jump start on that as well as start teaching myself Latin. Exciting stuff. Especially Latin. I've already read two books since Saturday, and I'm probably going to raid Sonja's library for more tomorrow. Especially since the weather is still supposed to be nice and I have no intention of leaving the house.
Anyway. Time to go. More about the situation my job has evolved into later. Maybe tomorrow night.
Monday, May 05, 2008
It's the night before my first final...
...and whilst I really want to sit down and tell you all about my trip to the beach yesterday, I really should get a good night's sleep instead.
So instead I'll post this recap of what I've been up to since February 24th of this year, courtesy of all the statuses I posted on Facebook...
So instead I'll post this recap of what I've been up to since February 24th of this year, courtesy of all the statuses I posted on Facebook...
Today
Brittany realizes she should've typed up her MME notes sooner and sold copies. Too bad she can't do it next year.11:10pm
Brittany should really probably stop geeking out on this music, but damn. Perfect!9:14pm
Brittany is all like, "Good God. I am so tired of this right now."5:22pm
Brittany is sore from running on the beach?10:00am
Brittany is still completely twacked out. She must remember to put a curse on the folks that manufacture Diet Pepsi.2:12am
Yesterday
Brittany is completely twacked out. Weird.11:04pm
Brittany is hiding so as to avoid frustrating revision. Let them experience how damn difficult it is.7:04pm
Brittany still can't believe her dad hadn't heard about the Wii.7:56am
May 3
Brittany just gave away her weekend. Damn.1:20pm
May 2
Brittany knows better than to build castles in the sky. Even though some of them look so damn pretty.4:45pm
Brittany loves each and every one of her friends.9:22am
May 1
Brittany wonders why Paula Abdul hasn't imploded yet.10:12pm
Brittany thinks she may just play The Sims until the cleaner leaves.8:57am
April 30
Brittany has a reading problem.4:46pm
April 29
Brittany is on her way to complete relaxation.9:19pm
April 28
Brittany is going to celebrate her first essay-free evening by staying up late reading a non-school-related book. With a glass (or two) of wine.8:53pm
Brittany really wants to hear Emma say "you gave me a social disease!" Right now.2:45pm
Brittany is done. Time for bubble bath.12:56pm
Brittany loves the snazzy things Word can do with footnotes.2:37am
Brittany can't wait for Tuesday.12:33am
April 27
Brittany is amused that spark notes has a link to Domino's online order service. She loves pizza and studying. Not Dominos though.11:42pm
Brittany might be mad at the world again.5:30pm
April 26
Brittany really wants to go shopping.11:37pm
Brittany is mad facebook won't let her list her relationship status as "married to her work". Jerks.11:27am
Brittany was amazed to discover how much she missed drinking dark ale.11:20am
April 25
Brittany had such a good time. Sucks she has to iron now. How do you iron a dust ruffle?2:23pm
April 24
Brittany hurts.7:23pm
Brittany hates footnotes.3:22pm/>
Brittany just might take a nap. Or have a cigarette.2:43pm
Brittany might be on the home stretch.7:59am
Brittany loves instant coffee and cigarettes. And granola bars.3:33am
Brittany has every appliance in the kitchen running...1:34am
April 23
Brittany should stop telling herself that a glass of wine is a study aid (but it'll help her chill out and focus...).10:22pm
Brittany hates Freud again.6:22pm
April 21
Brittany thinks the only thing cooler than her new hairdo is that it was free. Word.6:11pm
April 20
Brittany is practising for something that probably won't happen.11:37pm
April 19
Brittany is still listening to the Beatles.10:26am
April 18
Brittany is bored and listening to the Beatles.6:08pm
April 17
Brittany put too much honey in. Oh well.8:42pm
Brittany finally watched it. Meh.2:12am
April 16
Brittany is completely f-ing fed up with drama queen children.9:45pm
April 15
Brittany has a crush on Eric Bana again.10:19pm
Brittany apparently cannot help but asphyxiate herself with cleaning chemicals.1:23pm
Brittany enthusiastically went for a jog. Ignorance is indeed bliss.9:09am
April 14
Brittany wishes to go beddie-bye.9:39pm
April 13
Brittany has a sore jaw. Don't make any jokes.9:47pm
April 12
Brittany is not gonna revise any more tonight. Bring on the bad movies!11:42pm
Brittany really needs to find the perfect socks for roller skating. The ones she has now just aren't cutting it.12:55pm
April 11
Brittany is going roller skating tomorrow. Weather permitting.10:14pm
Brittany wished the takeout delivery guy would hurry up already.8:55pm
Brittany has answered all of Booze Mail's booze trivia questions. And thus is bored again.2:30am
April 10
Brittany is falling back in love with mcnamara/troy.10:37pm
Brittany still has a scratchy throat from her idiocy yesterday cleaning the iron.2:37pm
April 9
Brittany wonders who the hell talked Adam Corolla into doing Dancing with the Stars. Doesn't that cancel out all his work on The Man Show?3:32pm
Brittany realized the time has come to get to work.12:06pm
April 8
Brittany is super stoked KU won.8:32pm
April 6
Brittany has been inspired to make snickerdoodles.5:35pm
April 5
Brittany fixed the plugin situation...now she just has to stay awake long enough.10:01pm
Brittany really wishes she had dayquil too.5:40pm
Brittany hopes she gets to watch KU stomp UNC. Might not be able to stay awake that late...3:44pm
Brittany feels like a real person again. Hooray for showers and toothbrushes!1:14am
April 4
Brittany feels like it's Sunday.9:25pm
April 3
Brittany is hurting. And has a kid today. And has decided to no longer be affected by the "g" word.9:57am
Brittany is hurting. And has a kid today. Rats.9:55am
April 2
Brittany is still really giggly over her awesome April Fools joke...2:00am
April 1
Brittany still has a job. Woot.10:56pm
Brittany might not have a job after tonight.4:37pm
March 31
Brittany loves George of the Jungle.8:33pm
Brittany might just be a coward.7:00pm
Brittany is no longer concerned with job performance.1:25pm
Brittany is hopefully going to get back on track. Starting with ironing. Ugh.11:33am
Brittany wishes she could find sleep.4:48am
Brittany is contemplating Nyquil.12:19am
March 30
Brittany is extraordinarily hungover after some failed beer-ritas and getting lost in Sydenham.1:31pm
March 29
Brittany doesn't know what her status is.5:36pm
March 28
Brittany is not obeying her own rules for jetlag.8:48pm
March 26
Brittany is bidding farewell to the sun...11:03pm
March 23
Brittany is a bronze goddess.9:11pm
March 19
Brittany is fervently worshipping the sun.3:54am
March 16
Brittany is getting ready to do nothing again.6:34pm
March 15
Brittany is sort of hungover and sort of sunburned. Good first day at Daweenie.7:40pm
March 13
Brittany is about to wear shorts and a tank top. God bless California.6:18pm
March 11
Brittany just had a scare. Thought the charity shop folks snuck Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat into the box for Point Break. *shudders*.8:51pm
March 10
Brittany cannot wait to get on a plane.8:33pm
March 9
Brittany would like someone to explain to her why she has a crush on Robert Carlyle.10:45pm
Brittany is going to miss Indian food.9:50pm
Brittany did not fall asleep on the bus this time. Hooray for small improvements!4:06am
March 8
Brittany can't believe she fell asleep on the bus.4:55am
March 6
Brittany is tired of attention-hungry fat cats.10:24pm
Brittany is going to read herself to sleep.10:20pm
Brittany needs to watch more football. From the privacy of her own home.10:03pm
March 5
Brittany sleepy.11:48pm
March 4
Brittany should not have turned on the office.10:00pm
Brittany is going to bed early like a good girl.8:52pm
March 3
Brittany is done with it. Thank the lord!11:06pm
Brittany is accepting applications for her circus.7:15pm
Brittany is all hopped-up on Diet Pepsi and extra cheese.12:17am
March 2
Brittany hates having last-minute revelations about homework. Oral history! Why didn't she think of it before?9:08pm
Brittany shouldn't be this amused by Freud. Arrogant bastard. Arrogant clinical charlatanic bastard.7:12pm
Brittany has run out of easy procrastination options. Options that require effort sort of defeat the purpose...1:33pm
Brittany is completely enthralled with Mr. Brookmyre. She can't believe she gets to read this for an English 101 class...1:47am
March 1
Brittany is tired from roller skating. Damn bumpy sidewalks.4:15pm
February 27
Brittany is working out the logistics of wearing her new skates everywhere.2:13pm
February 26
Brittany has a brand-new pair of roller skates. Do you have a brand-new key?6:40pm
February 25
Brittany has turned on Bill & Ted to help her write her history essay. Wyld Stallyns!1:41pm
Brittany wasted all that time on a crappy book.12:26am
February 24
Brittany really must work on essays today. Poop.11:00am
...I don't make much sense, do I?
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