What a day I’ve had. It all started off quite nice, actually. I had a nine hour sleep, and I was allowed a small, important sleep-in: no jumping out of bed, no tumbling into trousers, just lounging round watching the outrageous sexism of Trisha on Ch.5 (This mornings episode: Too Butch to be Babe) I also had a bit of intuition: the sun was shining its merry way down, and Ell had left the house after blaming me that the washing machine ate his favourite hoodie, but I figured my black, woollen man-jacket would do the job.
Today had all the remindings of a day at my old high school: everything is new again, and you’re just dawdling round hoping you’ll bump into your friends eventually. I had got there at 12:15, as part of the forgotten, loony lefties of politics, history and humanities students: The Awkward Squad, Faculty 6. The college conspired as a whole to annoy me. Friends came and went, and not the precious few I could hold on to. I tried to get into the golden apple, the liquid centre, the Apple of Adam where all of the unis were waiting with their gleaming, shiny dead trees, but I was denied access until 1:30-for half an hour, a bit pissy considering that was when my Higher Ed. Talk was at the same time. It was quite stressful. The damn talk only lasted for half an hour, and the man attempted to patronize and put us off as much as possible: he told us that getting degrees would mean better jobs, and therefore more pay…while I got over my surprise and started to take notes feverishly he mentioned that its important to make a good choice. “No kidding,” I breathed. Everyone else was getting out, one by one into the last of the sun. He then went on about courses in medicine, veterinary science and chemistry, never mentioning politics or history – though he did say we could, possibly, take both as a subject. And that oh, these courses also last for three years. To top it off, he impressed us all, by saying that due to the backward promise of the Labour party (Pop-up fees), the cost of living each year will rise to 6,000 pounds a year. The remaining streamed out, very impressed though pushed through some imperative demand to escape. But suddenly the heavens opened and pissed on us, and I fell in love with my man-jacket.
After the dash to the Golden Apple (which like being born-the contractions, I mean, and all that water splashing down your face and other people’s backs), I made it in, and grabbed, attacked and interviewed the stall people with my friendly journalistic technique, and got out some information. I also sneaked some bags – 4 in all – and staggered back to this library, tired, and underwired with glossy trees filled with big words and drastic expectations.
From the top of my head, I grabbed/applied for:
Aberystwyth, Cardiff, Swansea, Bristol, Queens in London, London School of Economics, Oxford, Warwick, Kings’ College, Goldsmiths, Liverpool and Manchester…
So far I’m loving Goldsmiths, Cardiff, Oxford and Manchester. Warwick’s was funny. I told her I was interested, but it was a campus uni in the middle of nowhere, and I’m a city girl. She interrupted me, gave me a big smile and told me about their health service. Maybe she thought I was mad for dissing the Wondrous Warwick, or maybe she assumed being a city crow I’d be indulging in promiscuous sex and drugs, drugs, drugs and assured I could roll in whenever I wanted there. So that was funny. But I’m exhausted. So now, when I have some time, I’m going to grab the Sheffield and Durham prospectuses cos they seemed interesting and challenging. And they’re up North and I feel I’m due to pay some homage there, if I don’t take in Goldsmiths…
Actually, something funny happened on Monday. My friend Helen, told me about this thing called the Goldwin/Godwin experiment/effect, where you say a word and you reply without thinking the first thing that comes into your head. She was freaked out, because she replied “bear” to “baby”. So I tried it out:
“Okay, Betty, remember just reply without thinking. Cos you know when people go erm, or stop for a few seconds you know they didn’t like the first one…so – Chair!”
“Wank!”
Stunned silence. I tried to laugh it off, and got hysterical. You know how the funnier you find something the quieter your laugh is, and it shakes you to pieces and busts your ribs instead? That was I – bent over, my head hurting with the force of my laughter. At least I didn’t make her seem weird. I don’t think I’ll ever be normal. Especially when say “wank” to “chair”. What the hell was I thinking, hey? Oh, well. Laugh it off.
And here’s another funny thing from my best friend, Ria: http://rianbow.blogspot.com/2005/04/dirty.html#commentsThat is my WORST nightmare!!! And with a dirty laugh I wish you undead. I guess you can tell I got some of my shit together and I won’t throwing plates for some time. I ‘ope.
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