Tonight we say goodbye to my blue and black hair. I've loved it. It's scared old ladies, started conversations, kickstarted a trend and has required me to have a little more pizazz in my daily life. I shall miss it, but my next colour is more outrageous. I won't tell you yet, on the 30th when it comes on, I shall.
I've had a couple of eventful days. Its the middle of exam season and I've had my first two exams - history and english lang/lit part 1. I've written a total of 19 pages so far which is a nice tally. I'm thinking of my other friends who are just constantly self-sabotaging by not reading their notes, or getting drunk. Rich says it a white thing (him, not me.) He's a self depreciative English guy who's applied his underlying melancholy to politics. Hes told me he doesn't believe in love and that monagamy is unnatural. I think it was because of his mum dying and he found his crux in Marxism (I think I found my crux through biro) and he's managed to manipulate into Richism, as do all political theorists. He's smart so you might be reading his stuff one day. I'd like that, once he stops saying stupid things like that.
Mentally the last two exams have been tough for me. I've become increasingly compulsive. I'm finding myself relieve my anxiety and fear by scratching things. There's no mathematical simplicity to it, I just scratch until I feel better. Like now, I'm scratching the laptop keyboard. I really want to scratch into the grooves in between it like anything, but I know that wouldn't be smart. Doesn't stop me thinking about it, though.
For my history I was genuinely nervous. And my chair was squeaky, and I was up against the bare untreated brick wall, and the desk was wooden and scratchy. I just wanted to take everythinng apart, scratch it, smooth it down with my fingers, and put it back together again. I had to satisfy myself by scratching the paper instead and the pen nib. I got through the exam alright, panicking, panicking.
Maybe it's just one of those things...you know, things that make you feeler better, more human. For some people its jogging, or sitting on the roof, stroking their cat, insulting their spouse. For me its partly cooking. I'm chopping onions, stir frying them with some sort of soy sauce/honey concoction. Hearing the sizzle, stirring them to perfection like no one else in my house, I feel wonderful, a -- ...........sssssssssss................ -- like the air coming out of my tires.
My psych also recommends this breathing exercise, but I get so bored and distracted. I'd rather read Dr Norrell anyday - I'm absolutely determined to finish it before I go to university. (For anyone unknowing, its a charming, ingenius tale of 2nd wave magic in the early 19th century. Its written in a darling 18th century mannerisms, almost like an essay with the footnotes and the stories within the 800 + page novel. Buy it and be obsessed like me!)
Apart from the incessant anxiousness, I've been feeling quite giddy for excitement when my exams are over and I'm almost completely booked up for the next month. I'm hoping Lioness has downloaded some KT Tunstall (DM loves her too :) We must talk.) and I shall comment when my internet is back online. It does this every 1am. I think Dad placed it there, shrewd as he is...he's told me we're going to empty the loft of our old house (we're renting it out again and it needs rewiring) apparently there are a wealth of treasures there, including my fairytale tapes I used to go to sleep with as a child, all my childhood books (including the intimidable 'Whats the Time Mr Wolf?'). Apparently my favourite was "the one with the golden thread", or Rumpelstielkskin (OMG I can spell it. I was always jealous of people who could.) I don't know why, and I can't even remember the story...memories abound this summer: both to be created and refreshed from yesteryear, and that should be great when I get my mind in gear.