Bryn has just been offered two jobs! A temporary one doing data entry for an adult video store. Honestly, could there be a funchier career? And a "proper" one, the sort of job he wanted, in a lab, doing exactly what he always wanted to do, with a bigger salary than he'd hoped for! At the moment, it's only a three month contract, but they'll probably extend it, and even if they don't, he'll have the much-needed lab-work experience and a reference from a relevant company. He hath broken catch 22 ("you're too well-educated for minimum wage work, but don't have the lab experience for more advanced stuff"). w00t!

Sunday 16 March 2003

Spent majority of yesterday and today working. All my current homework, except the dissertation, is now done. Said dissertation is meant to be 10000 words long, and is currently about 4000, and I'm running out of stuff to write. But since a large proportion of those 4000 words were written this weekend, I feel I can manage it! (It's due in on 28th.) There is hope!

Except, knowing my luck, after all this hard labour, the world will end tomorrow. And, thanks to recent events in Iraq, I'm a lot more convinced about this than I usually am when I make this prediction.

Oh well. At least I can say I died virtuous square.

Tuesday 18 March 2003

Lecturer (in going over past exam questions): When you see this question, what word beginning with 's' springs to mind?

(He means 'stochastic', but makes a sudden realisation.)

Lecturer: Er, a non-rude, relevant word!

Sunday 23 March 2003

I put 5p into a vending machine, only to have it spat back at me. I put it in again, using my special ""take it, NOW!"" technique that I've developed over the last two and a half years. It came back again.

So I examined the coin, to see if there was a reason the machine had something against it.

Turned out it was a 25 cent coin from the Republic of the Seychelles!

Now, approximately a third of UKC's student body consists of foreign students, so it's altogether likely that the campus shop assistants frequently mistakenly accept foreign coinage, and then push it into the hands of other unsuspecting customers. But the Seychelles' population is only 80,000-ish - how many of its residents can there be at this distant university? And it's not like people from such distant lands should still have their own currency in their wallets eleven weeks into the term. Freakiness!

Friday 28 March 2003

It is my last night of student life as I know it (beyond this, there lie only exams, and then whatever awaits me next year). And I just saw a goth band in Mungos, the restaurant in Eliot and epicentre of trendiness!

It seems Fitting and Symbolic and Cool, but why does the goth scene round here have to get good just as I'm leaving, eh?

It is 1.26am and the computer room is fuller than it usually is at 5pm. But I've handed in my dissertation and coursework in and started my revision! W00t! Also, the goth band (Einsteifen) sold me a t-shirt - unlike most of the band shirts I own, it actually fits me and is good quality. Immediately afterwards, I felt v. guilty since I am in a band with a former member of Einsteifen and his dislike for them is great. O'well - snot like I've even met all my fellow band members yet, much less jammed with them.

Saturday 29 March 2003

They say April is the cruellest month, don’t they? Oh please, let that not be true! The reason I haven't written much this month is not because it's been boring, but because it's been the most bizarre, eventful, and indeed cruel month of my entire life, though I either can't or can't be bothered to go into details. Let's just say I ended up believing, with good reasons, I'd caused a friend to commit suicide; I narrowly avoided going to jail three times thanks to an unintentional dissertation-completing-insanity-induced incident involving road signs (luckily, thanks to my mood, I found most of it absolutely hysterical, but my lesson has been learnt and my life of crime is over now); and that's just the beginning. And it’s not even over yet. I really can’t handle it again, with extra helpings.

Yesterday, I spent most of the morning revising. Then I went to my lecture at 2, then went home to do some more revision. Unfortunately, this proceeded not to happen in the slightest - I spent the next five and a half hours talking to Soppygit and writing a song.

Then, although I’d been invited to a party, I couldn’t be bothered socialising, so I went to see a film at the campus cinema: “Irreversible”. Tip: don’t go unless you want to witness gratuitous amounts of ultraviolence. I’ve never seen so many people walk out of a film before and I saw "Sebastiane" at the cinema (which is essentially gay porn only arty). Basically, it tells the story of a violent sexual act, only the events are shown in reverse order. Which does make for incredibly poignant watching: we start by seeing torturous events, and then discover how the characters ended up there: we see them grow increasingly happy in their ignorance and their lack of concern beyond what we know turn out to be trivial matters. And there’s no avoiding the fates that await them; we can’t pray for them, only sympathise very deeply.

It was also very, very evocative. I was uncomfortable in my cushioned seat within minutes of sitting down; I found myself not far from vomiting at the sound of dry retching; I felt broken glass strike my thigh as a car window was smashed; I felt coke going up my nose, even though I looked away the moment I realised what was going on. (I’ve never snorted anything, but I’ve seen someone do it - in real life - once, and my nostrils and temple shrieked in sympathy, as they continue to do at the very thought of the act.) The audience also gets plagued with a strobe effect, swirling camera angles and repetitive harsh semi-industrial music, to increase the sense of sickness.

The problem was, every sequence of events was so long and repetitive, and many of them became irritating. There’s a long scene in a gay club, where we can see very little (in fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d think it a badly lit prison) and over and over again, we hear the question, “Do you know The Tenia?” This is interspersed only by various crude propositions; this goes on for at least ten minutes, while the camera sways as if held by someone really extremely drunk and equally bored. It’s suitably nightmarish, though: you don’t know what’s going on, the surroundings are hellish, you can’t escape from a single repeating event, but your sense of dread is increasing.

The later (or earlier) rape scene, though the intention of its excrutiating length (nine minutes) was clearly to make you, the audience, endure the torture with the victim, you’re glad it’s over - not because the pain has stopped, but because you’re bored - you’ve got the idea and want to move onto the next thing. More difficult, though, are the less violent, talk-filled scenes. The best is the final (or initial) long sequence, showing the couple, soon to become the victim and perpetrator of ultraviolence, at home, in bed, the sleepy, bored, loving couple - this was portrayed more realistically than I’ve ever seen done before. However, it could have been cut to half its length and still have served the same purpose. Then there’s a scene at a party, which also seemed realistic, but was again overlong. Harder to take was part where our vengeance seekers are questioning a prostitute - the talk goes in broken circles, which seemed over chaotic. And most annoying is a scene on the train, where three of our leads are talking about sex - what takes them ten minutes to establish could be said in one, in reality as well as scripted drama; it all goes right over our heads, as it’s so repetitive, cyclic, banal and basically pointless.

In summary - it’s the most headbeepy film I’ve seen (with the possible exception of “Hana Bi” - but since I was very tired when I watched that, and it was the first arthouse film I’d seen, perhaps it’s not actually as disturbing as I remember), but it does its best to depict reality as it is, and how horrific the ordinary world can be. However, it goes too far in doing the former. Often, I hear conversations in computer rooms, usually between foreigners, which follow exactly the same patterns as those in the film, but those are irritating as beep! If dialogue is to be simulated accurately, a Buffy-style approach is much easier for the audience to put up with.

Afterwards, I went to the toilet, since a scene in the film, which wasn’t supposed to be horrific in the slightest - the victim going to the toilet and not using toilet roll afterwards - had my private parts promising me a urinary tract infection. When I washed my hands, I put all the bumph I was carrying - ticket, flier, program listing forthcoming showings - behind the tap, and as I dried them, I reminded myself to pick it up. And verily, I did.

I don’t live far from campus, and only along busy, open, well-lit paths and roads. However, the film had left me unsettled - especially since it was the drunken last night of term - and I was wary of everyone I encountered, especially since I was wearing a v. short skirt and knee-high boots. A bloke seemed to be making a beeline for me. I crossed the road to avoid a large group of boys heading towards me. Only to encounter one on the other side. Turned out I knew one of them, a strange guy. He asked me if I wanted to go to a drum ‘n’ bass / techno party. I did (since there’s been zillions of them, and I’ve always wanted to go but never had the chance), but bed seemed preferable so I said no and walked on.

Outside my house, I reached into my pocket to take out my wallet, which contains my key . . . only to find my wallet wasn’t there. I checked my other pockets - but no wallet.

BEEP! Usually, I wander round with my hands in my pockets, and even when I don’t, I can’t help but be aware of whether I’ve got my wallet or not, because it’s so heavy. Had the odd guy stolen it? Had it fallen out and someone else stolen it? Was I going to have to walk all the way back to the cinema, looking around for it? Gah, how do I cancel my credit card? How do I replace my Slimelight membership card? Will I have to pay for a new student ID and driving licence? How do I get a new house key?

Was this some sort of punishment? Earlier on that day I’d been complaining bout how evil the wallet is, since it’s so hefty, it’s ripped both the leather around the pocket of my trenchcoat and pleather of my jacket, yet it holds barely anything - were the wallet Gods punishing me for my lack of gratitude?

Why had this month of ridiculous melodrama just got worse?

To my immense relief, although the cinema doors were locked, there was still a man inside, who saw me through the glass walls, unlocked the door and said, “You’ve come back for your wallet, haven’t you?” Apparently, I’d left it on a sink and some nice person had handed it over.

How I managed to not see its vast black bulk among white and silver, I don’t know, especially when I was picking up my bumph from the very same area. Indeed, I believe it is yet another phase of the joke that some cruel God has been playing on me all month, and he or she obscured it from my sight and thoughts. Gah!

But the month's nearly over. There can’t be any more, can there?

[Oh yes there can: later that day, someone told me she wanted to leave university, and we spent six hours straight, discussing what she was going to do about it.

Heech! Whatever next?]

Monday 31 March 2003

Next academic year, grades permitting, I will doing postgraduate study. I applied to two places, York University and UKC (which, as of tomorrow, will be called something else, but it will always be UKC to me! Mwahaha!) I've known for a while that UKC would accept me and give me the necessary funding if I got a 2:1 or better. However, I eventually concluded that I'd rather go to York, who told me they'd accept me, but not whether or not they'd give me the funding. But today, they say, they will, providing I get a 2:1 or better! Hooray!

Now, must get on with getting that 2:1. (To be honest, I only need to get an average of about 25% in my forthcoming exams in order to do that, thanks to my grades last year, but best be on the safe side. And of course, a first would be preferable.

Oh, and I don't usually talk about current events, but, in today's major Guardian article:

"The troops, from the Delta Company, attacked two enemy positions, known under James Bond theme given to the operation as Pussy and Galore."

I have been trying to keep my outrage at military activities in Iraq to a minimum . . . but that really isn't on! "Let's invade Pussy!" No!