… Fit into my camera bag:
Digital camera tripod.
… Don’t fit into my camera bag:
… Make me hit my head on solid surfaces:
The cost of a decent-sized camera bag.
The number of bags I have to take to college.
People moving to New York.
Driving to college so that I can’t have a mojito in the morning.
It is going to be NINETEEN DEGREES tomorrow.
I am not sure that that sort of temperature warrants my 12-foot scarf, even if I do have to leave the house at 7.30am when it is ddefinitelybelow 19oc, and possibly below zero. This makes me sad.
I am so tired that it physically hurts. My head, my eyes, my chest all ache with tired as my body cries out for me to just get some fucking sleep already, Jesus. I think my brain is starting to chip in on that refrain, too. What with the fact that, this morning, I decided that The Liar was too difficult to read on the train, and picked up the 8th Princess Diaries book instead. Then I left all my books (Princess Diaries, ‘Games For Actors and Non-Actors’, my PA notebook, and my PS notes) on the train (I got them back: someone handed them in at Brighton, THANK GOD.)
I’m at the point where I can’t sleep for more than four hours a night, and yet I am too damn tired to DO ANYTHING. Like, at 3am I’ll start eying the piles of clothes and books strewn across my floor. I get up to start tidying, but end up falling back onto my bed because: So tired. Cannot move. TV now. Of course, there is nothing ON TV that I want to watch at that time in the morning, and my brain rejects junk TV now (for which I thank it eternally). So I just lie on my bed and look at the sky outside my window, or I sit on the computer and mindlessly read people’s blog archives until my alarm goes off to remind me, that, Hey, get dressed and go to the station, and try not to trip over the cat while you’re brushing your teeth this time.
I kind-of hate my alarm.
My additional-support tutor hasn’t got back to me yet, and I am quietly freaking out about that because coursework? Is kicking my ASS.
Also: Personal Statements. I hate personal statements, because even though my first draft is done, the OTHER DRAFTS ARE NOT, and I HATE RE-DRAFTING. Why can’t everything be perfect first time? I think it would make life much better.
Photos shiny. *Pets camera happily.*
Am about half-way done on my latest knitting project (‘calorimetry’ on Knitty), but very close to running out of yarn for it. Which is unfortunate because I bought it at a charity shop for 50p, and I do not think they make it anymore… I may also have thrown the label away because I am the QUEEN OF SMART. I do remember that it was made by Patons, and it’s pink and kinda variegated. Halp?
I knocked over half a tub of melted B&J ice cream the other day and cannot get the chocolaty stain out. I think I broke the steamer trying.
Does anyone reading this, who goes to SDC, play the piano? Or keyboards? And if you do, would you want to have me in your debt FOREVER?
Be aware that before you say yes, what I’m asking for help with is singing. Because oh my God, I am failing musical theatre in so many ways and I HAVE TO PASS this module.
Even though it’s two solo audition songs, and I? Cannot sing. *weeeeeps*
So: Help me. I will repay you somehow. YOU CAN ASK FOR ANYTHING (which does not mean that you’ll get it, but hey. Worth a try, right? RIGHT?)
I have to update sussexpixels.org.uk.
I have to update pinkgeek.co.uk.
I have to make a new layout for tbwc.co.uk.
I have to upload yesterdays photos to flickr, and facebook.
I do not want to do any of these things because they involve thought and coding and creativity and argh. Brain meltz0red.
And Finally: Beanie is awesome. (And please note that that’s the ONLY LINK I have been bothered to type the code for, so you know it’s gotta be good…)
I cannot stop reading marthastewart.com and am currently in the process of “doing things” to my bedroom. Things involving PINK and CREAM. It’s going to look like a strawberry daiquiri and a white Russian drank too much of each other and THREW UP on my room, and I think I like it.
, and maybe some pink-patterned wallpaper or fabric?
I’ve been thinking about anger.
I was angry yesterday. I don’t know why; I wasn’t in a particularly bad mood, and it was strange things that set it off. Getting splashed by a car didn’t bother me, having the wrong folder (and therefore none of my forum notes) didn’t bother me.
It was just little things. Stupidity, mostly. Wait, that’s not quite right. Close-mindedness is more what I mean. Or maybe just idiocy.
My performing arts class not thinking about health and safety- not remembering what they were like two years ago and assuming that if you get the big bad college students climbing on top of each other as a demonstration, the year tens won’t want to one-up you
One of our class, in our last rehearsal, decided to just go home an hour and a half into the five-hour lesson because she “didn’t feel well”, telling me that she “honestly, hadn’t been out drinking last night” when she’d been telling other members of the class about getting cheap drinks, and how wasted she’d been last night.
When I went to my tutor with the fact that I didn’t think I had it in me to do history at university (because, hello, I do no work outside of class except in mad panics before exams and coursework deadlines. And that is not going to change because I just don’twant to.), and want to go and get the photography qualifications that will let me do a degree in something that I love instead, just sat there and went “well I think everyone hates writing essays, you’re no different, just go and do history anyway.” Like because I take the subjects at college that automatically means I like them more, or am better at them. Like it has nothing to do with what I want to do. The fact that she’s trying to force me to have a selection of universities that I want to go to, even though I’ve explained to her that if I don’t get into Bath Spa I’m just not going to university.
As well as that, I got so pissed off with the fact that you have to have done art & design to do photography. I know that they have reasons, but what if my portfolio is better than someone else’s? Passing an exam means nothing in most subjects, andless than nothing in artistic subjects as far as I’m concerned. I’m not an artist by any stretch of the imagination. Outside of photography and computer graphics I am the least artistically competent person that I know! But I can take pictures. I just Do Not Get It.
And lastly, the fact that there’s a –.37 train every hour of the day. Every hour except 4pm, that is. Because, yes, that makes PERFECT SENSE. Also, a note to the dickhead information guy: WHEN SOMEONE IS TRYING TO ASK YOU SOMETHING REPEATING “NO, NO, NO, NO” CONSTANTLY IS GOING TO MAKE ME FILE A COMPLAINT AGAINST YOU. And maybe kick you a little.
Maybe it was something in the air. Maybe it was the combination of Annoying PA Girl #1 and Annoying PA Girl #2 being set on FULL ANNOYING. Maybe it was because I haven’t been sleeping. Who knows?
So yeah, I was thinking about anger. There’s this sort of stuff which is mildly irritating, and makes me vaguely want to bang the perpetrators heads together until they stop, and then there’s the anger than runs deeper than that. The sort that’s cold, and hard, and makes me want to make other people hurt. The anger that makes me make other people cry just because it makes me feel better and because I’m good at it, no matter how ashamed of that fact I am.
I have a horrible, awful temper that is usually under excellent control. I wonder whether it’s under too much control, because I don’t speak up when things make me angry anymore. Ever, because there’s this well founded fear that if I let go a little I’ll loose control completely.
I think it’s because I have this feeling. This feeling that people should suffer for hurting me, and to be fair, most of them have and so I’m not angry with them anymore.Justice. Only this time, I can’t. When it comes down to it, it’s not a case of ‘can’t’; it has more to do with ‘don’t want to’. I don’t what to because I don’t care. Rationally, logically I genuinely don’t care. I had my epiphany, it’s over. I’m the better person. Yet there’s still this little part of me that says, “I can make you suffer for this. I know enough to break you.” I do. And some days it’s all I can do to stop myself shouting everything. Everything that no one else knows, but that I know.
Because the only way to win is to take yourself out of the competition, and I’ve done that. I have made my peace, I like myself a whole lot more because of it, and If I say anything about the things that I know, I put myself straight back in the game, and then I’ve lost by default.
I don’t lose.
I don’t go to school and learn in order to get qualifications. This might have been a primary motivation for me going back to college this time, but the other major motivating factor was: Holy Christ, if I don’t get out of here and learn something soon Imight just kill someone.
I go to school and learn for the sake of learning. I love to learn things. I hate qualifications and exams. I want more than anything to do this AEA History course because it sounds fascinating, even though I probably won’t bother turning up for the exam. I am probably going to fail out of university (a fact that holds less than zero stigma for me, because really, who cares?), but I want to go just because Bath Spa’s history course looks so goddamn interesting.
On which note, yes, I probably could get into Sussex or Bath or Cardiff or Southampton or Bristol. Or anywhere else (barring Oxbridge) that I bloody well wanted to. But it’s not about going to the ‘best’ university, it’s about going to the one that I’m going to love being at whether they want AAB (Sussex) or BCD (Bath Spa) for me to get in. Anyone else that tells me I’m “aiming too low” or whatever is getting patted on the head in a condescending fashion and then told to fuck off in the nicest way possible.
Coincidentally, it sometimes surprised my classmates that I talk about this stuff with that the pressure to go somewhere ‘good’ comes more from my tutor and other people in the college system than is does my parents- all my parents want is for me to be happy and fulfilled however I can achieve it.
If I manage to make it through my degree, I’ll probably look for somewhere to do an MA in history, or I’ll go back to Cambridge College of Art and do a foundation degree in photography, and then turn that into a BA itself and see where that takes me.
Chances are I’ll end up doing nothing to do with history in the long-run. As far as I can see, knowing myself, I’m going to end up taking pictures, making movies, or being in a physical theatre company like Complicite.
To Hell with education. I want to get my learning on.