It's been a shitty couple of days but I'm a bit of a high. I've been subject to the new phenomena in my college that is toilet knocking. Basically, you're taking a dump and having an intelligent conversation at the same time. It sounds complicated, but it's not that hard. It's just that I don't like being followed by crazy straight girls whose name I don't remember.
She's really nice, but she's like...buzzing, all the time, and I don't think she's drugged up or anything. For example, just before the first exam where Rich was a little crazier, we went into our respective toilets for a dump. Crazy straight girl must have seen me, for as I was relieving myself I heard a loud voice asking "Betty! Are you here? I saw you come in?" I wanted to keep quiet but then she started knocking on my toilet door, going "Betty, Betty...." So I had to identify myself. It seemed to make her very happy that I would respond to the toilet knocking fad, as I keep seeing her more often.
Anyway, yesterday was crap! Firstly, my Dad was up north making an appointment with the nightwatch so I had to make my own way to college. Suffice to say, I only managed to rouse myself to the rocking tune of Foo Fighters' new tune, Best Of You (tres lovely!) and of course, was very late but that doesn't matter anymore cos of exams, and I finish my AS college career tomorrow!! :)
All I really wanted was a last gasp of revision before I could forget I had ever learnt any English until September, but with practically everybody doing English there was nowhere to go. When I did find somewhere, full of annoying black girls chattering like budgies - some guy just decided to cut the grass outside. It sounded like rabbit heads cut in a swift, mass production line sort of thing and I couldn't concentrate. I didn't stay long. My zen-like state ruined I went towards the library again to see if I oculd wrestle a seat when a though struck me. My friend Rich's house has two bathrooms, and when revising he locks himself into one toilet and he's in there all day. It approached me as I locked myself in the library cubicle, and all of the noise and hubbub died away into something managable. I could concentrate, and i didn't think I'd be disturbed. But no, when stressed all functions of politeness are dissolved in the coffee (one other reason I refuse to drink the stuff) - people were knocking on me, tugging at the locked door, calling me Lola and no matter how much I told them to piss off they wouldn't listen and I only got ten minutes in, but it should be enough.
I was hating people yesterday. Mainly because everyone else was so busy acheiving whatever they wanted, and being happy in their stress because they were so happy. I felt like the poorest woman in London. Also, there were others who were so arrogant - I'm not revising at all! they say. They seem so proud. They believe that if they go the world will stop for them, that heads will turn, memorial days pinned up, barbecue sausages sacrificed in their honour. If a group of people wanted to go somewhere, they were also banging their heads against the wall-literally. I felt like a care worker. I wanted to hug him and just shake him - What the fuck is wrong with you?! I wanted flying feet. I could fly out of the exam hall - it's harder to do any exams, as my botherness is mixed with poison - fear of commitment, love of flying...
But it improved, slightly, in three ways. Firstly, after being reduced to revise the what collocations and lexical grammar (whatever) I bumped into crazy straight girl. I was talking to her about how stressed I was because I'd moan at plant pot at that point and I oculd she wasn't listening at all. Then suddenly she said, "Oh my god I love your boobs they're amazing" and talked in her own vein of how big and gorgeous they were...random. But I needed that to slap me back into action. One of the few people I feel like hugging, not punching right now is Liz but I think she's cutting too. I am so seasoned these days I could reason that they could be two weeks to two months old because of its colour. I have cut too, but it was on my thigh and no one needs to worry about that. Oh, and in creative writing I asked how she liked my dialogue draft and her reply was that I had a gift. I was excited. Was it that good? Reading it over...nope. But I know she likes my work, and I really need to start performing and getting over lisp fears because thats holding me back so so much now...and I'm looking over my novel, which I can finish now because it has a thread and plot - this is the way - the one way English lang lit have helped at all come together as I've imagined my story as a bunch of essay questions and I realise what I'm missing. It makes no sense typed out but its helped me make a plan stuck like shit to a blanket and I feel really confident about my writing right now...
Has anyone heard Amerie's song "One Thing"? Of course you have. I keep tripping up cos I'm hating people...I'm also mad tired. 5 hours sleep a night can do that to a person, but then again pretty much all students are having the same amount of sleep or less and functioning to a large degree...amd I've forgotten all of my meaning. Liverpool are being pummelled in the Champions league final though. Poor scousers.