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Thursday 1 May 2003
Three people in my class, quite independently of one another, said that today's exam was "evil". Considering I could do so few of the questions, I don't know how I ran out of time while doing so, but somehow I managed it. Je suis d00med. Having told myself on several consecutive days at the end of April, "Must remember to take (unused) library book back on 30th", today I noticed that I hadn't taken said library book back. So I did, begged for mercy, and didn't get charged a penny, even though it was a Special Restricted Loan volume. Cool! My failure to abuse the system in the past (mostly due to failure to use the library in the past) must have counted in my favour. Could today be more of a "random person from the past" day? First, I ran into Soppygit's friend Anna, who I only seem to see about once a year. Then I was sprinted up to by Richard, who I haven't spoken to in any depth for ages. And then That Chris phoned. Argh. I was hoping "Chris Mobile" meant some other Chris of the 60234234 I know, but no such luck. Fortunately, I have an exam tomorrow (this is probably the only time I've ever said that combination of words and I'll probably never say it again, so make the most of it) which was a valid reason to hang up after fifteen minutes. Friday 2 May 2003, 9.38pm Thankfully, my d00medness seems to have transferred to my ability to walk. My new(er) New Rocks, usually so good to me, tripped me up both on my way into the exam hall, and shortly after leaving it. The exam itself, however, was almost . . . nice! The three questions I chose to do were pretty similar to ones I'd recently practised, and were therefore eminently doable. (Although there was nothing on recurrent events, Mykosbeepit! Over the last two days my total ignorance of them has been transformed to mastery, but I was denied an opportunity to show my newfound knowledge.) I'm not sure I did all the questions exactly the right way, but at least I did all the questions, and my answers seemed pretty darn satisfying to me. Yay! The only bad thing was that it made me realise just how bad yesterday's exam was. At the time, having not done an exam in a year, I'd forgotten what my usual definition of a horrible exam is: "One in which I get very scared and struggle to do many of the questions, but manage them in the end." Yesterday's was truly horrible in that I hadn't the faintest idea how to do some of the questions and had to invent horribly mathematically unsound ways of doing them just to have something to write. Oh well. Both my exams for courses that postgraduates also do (i.e. the hard ones) are behind me now! And, since my next exam isn't until Tuesday, I get to have a shower tonight at last! Hooray! Sunday 4 May 2003, 10.44am I was supposed to go out on Friday evening, on a pub crawl and to aforementioned stag night, but my Mum phoned me shortly beforehand, and I found myself barely able to summon the strength to keep the phone to my ear and speak at the same time. Consequently, I decided to only go as far as Keynes Bar, then go home at 8 to shower, tidy my room, then have an early night, in preparation for a full day of revision on Saturday. So I did. But on Saturday, though I managed to do some revision, I didn't do anywhere near as much as I'd planned. At seven in the evening, I found myself rereading bits of "Under The Duvet" by Marian Keyes, with no desire or energy whatsoever to do any more past exam questions on Queueing Theory (a topic I normally like, but not after six hours of it). So I thought, "Well, a guilt-free evening off will do me good", so I set about playing "Gabriel Knight" . . . until the darn thing crashed. So I restored my saved game, went through the motions again in a slightly different order, and it crashed in the same place. So I quit the game, loaded it again, and did the same thing - only for the same thing to happen. This was probably fortunate, or I'd have been up playing it all night, but GRRRR! So I went to bed and slept for nine and a half hours. They were not the most restful hours I've ever had, since in my dream, Canterbury was being bombed and I had to run for my life; I was trapped in an office with a perverted and horrible lecturer; and I discovered the Maths book section of the library was closed for refurbishment. However, I did get to watch ten chavs accidentally killing each other by amusing methods, which should have made up for it. But no! I am still absolutely knackered! So knackered that I found I couldn't transfer orange squash from one bottle to another without spilling it everywhere, my hands were shaking so much. It is also so hot that my wrists keep gluing themselves to the computer desk, which doesn't help either. Why, praytell, did I think it was a good idea to apply to do a postgraduate degree at one of the nation's top institutions next year? When the bulk of my workload will occur in *August*? 222 hours. Just 222 hours and it will all be over. Sunday 4 May 2003, Later I am most amused. In my revision, I have just stumbled across the expression r2(d2). I felt very popular today. After spending the entire Easter holidays unrung by all but three people, today I had two phonecalls in the space of five minutes. One was my classmate Kika wanting my opinion on how much she should learn for our exam on Thursday (the notes for which consist of over a hundred pages of utter fiddliness). The other was Klair, saying I'd just walked past her and people and to go join them. So I did. (It turned out I wasn't being completely blind as they were sitting way down the grassy slope beside the footpath I was walking along.) For a few hours. Gloops. I don't even know what we talked about either, besides gossip, Wiccan rituals, insects (which were gathered in their masses) and gothdom. However, I'm already pretty much ready for Tuesday's exam, so it wasn't a great calamity - if we ignore the fact that I know absolutely nothing for Thursday's and those on the following Monday and Tuesday, anyway. Monday 5 May 2003 For the last few days, people have continually mentioned the fact that today's a bank holiday, but every time they did, I thought, "Oh, yeah, I'd forgotten about that." (For the non-Brits reading this, a bank holiday is when banks, schools, many shops and other places shut.) And so, my plan for today said:
1. Go to Sainsbury's for provisions.
I decided to go to Sainsbury's at 10, since it's one of the few times of day the evil kids round here are sure to be in school. But as I walked there, I passed two very-definitely school-aged boys on bikes. Once home again, I set off for campus, and saw 34805345 cars zooming past me. "Why is everyone out and about at 11am on a Monday?" I wondered. Then I remembered: it's a bank holiday. So going to the bank is out of the question. Going to the Management Science department is probably out (I can't be bothered to risk it since it's approximately a billion miles away), which is suckin' since I have my Operations Research II exam tomorrow, and I "only" got 92% on the homework so I want to know where I went wrong. Going to the student union is probably out. And I tried to get into the Cornwallis building, where they have at least two full-length mirrors . . . but it was locked! On with the beeploads of work, I spose. Monday 5 May 2003, Later Cursed be the campus shop! First they make my life miserable by ceasing to sell the wide-ruled side-bound 200-page pads of super-thin file paper that I hold so dear. Now they cease to sell the next best thing! (Wide-ruled side-bound 160-page pads of thick paper.) Now, they stock no wide-ruled pads at all, except an 80-page top-bound (shudder) one, and an 80-page wire-bound one that costs about 30p more. (The sort that most people at my posh school favoured, but not I!) I cannot escape from this cruel place fast enough! Wednesday 7 May 2003 Yesterday's exam went well. Tomorrow's, I am not so hopeful about. Today, I am wearing my "being dumped" tights (since the first time I wore them, I got dumped), but I haven't been dumped yet. Hurrah! This might have something to do with the fact that I'm single, but I shall be grateful to the powers that be nonetheless. Thursday 8 May 2003 I went to bed at 10 last night as I couldn't stop yawning. My body was totally awake though, so I rode the upsidedown imaginary bicycle for a bit and listened to my relaxation tape, but to no avail. I certainly stayed awake till past eleven, and at 2, I wasn't sure if I'd been awake or asleep for the last few hours. I then dreamed my Mum published a novel which was judged as the sixth best entry in the Nobel Prize For Literature competition - she won a recipe book. Then I woke at 4 to revise. I decided to say goodbye to my Pro Plus virginity at 8. Since I've never even drunk a caffeinated beverage before, when I went outside, I found the contrast settings on my vision had been altered (the library and sky were paler than usual, but people were more vivid) and I'd lost 75% of the feeling in my legs. On my way from central campus to the exam hall, I walked along a path across which someone had written in huge letters "NO BRAIN WASH". Very apt - especially for today's exam. Many of the questions were of the "here are the answers, now find them" variety. And no matter how hard I tried, I kept finding different ones. That said, the two people I've spoken to so far hated it more than I did, which is a good thing. (Since they scale marking a little, according to how badly everyone's done.) Four down, two to go + a presentation. The presentation has to be five minutes long, so I thought, "Well, I speak at 90 words a minute, so I'll have to write 750 words." Several minutes later, I realised my mistake. 17 years of studying Maths in return for *that* ability in mental arithmetic? Monday 12 May 2003 Last night, I chatted to Jo, started writing a Def Leppard / Bryan Adams esque song with a touch of Genesis (come on, you know YOU want to be influenced by both Phil Collen and Phil Collins for a single composition!), played the hangman game at unfortunateevents.com over the phone with Bryn (his computer, my ability to spell) and realised that you can sing "Driving In My Car" by Madness to the tune of "Boris The Spider" by The Who very easily. This is all well and good, except that I was meant to be revising for this morning's exam . . . Tuesday 13 May 2003 Both yesterday's exam and today's were nasty, but they are also both in the past. My days of undergraduate study are (as good as) behind me. May the days of undergraduate partying commence! Or not. In the absence of anyone to go and see ska + punk bands at The Beercart with tonight, I spent the evening sitting in Keynes JCR with a bunch of first years, who haven't started their exams yet, but between yawns, I heard them moaning about how tired they were. Oh well, it's not like I'm much of a partying person (being virtually teetotal, and a one-man-woman, despite said man being a no-woman-man). Saturday 17 May 2003 Random observation of the day: "corset" is an anagram of "escort". Monday 19 May 2003 I have more evidence of the instant karma of the UKC vending machines! Today, I put my money into a sweet machine and typed the code for a Mars Bar. Despite the fact that there were several Mars Bars in the machine, it bleeped at me and told me to make another selection. I tried to get my money back, but it refused. And so, I was forced to select an inferior item of confectionary. A Kitkat, that would do. The machine gave me two Kitkats for the price of one. I was going to go into central Canterbury for provisions today, but the weather is mingin'. However, the mingin' weather is making me feel like writing, so write I shall! My hair might be horrible, due to lack of mousse, and my bones may all snap due to lack of calcium, but my art shall flourish! Oh yes! If you can count "The Adventures Of Grumpy Black Metal Bloke" as art, anyway . . . Tuesday 20 May 2003 Weirdest things about last night: 1. On our way to the Beercart, me and Klair got stopped by some Dutch goth fourteen-year-olds, asking if we had any weed, and since we didn't, where one could get some? We told them to come to the Beercart, since someone there would probably be in possession of some, but they got scared and ran off. 2. There was an unprecedented amount of Lesbian Affection going on at The Beercart. Not that I minded; I might be a straight female, but there's something pleasing about it, whereas continuing displays of male-female dodginess beyond handholding is simply ick. 3. The DJ played a metal version of "Blue" by Eiffel 65! ("Blue" being an annoying and truly inane dance hit from a few years ago.) It sounded great, with the "da-ba-de, da-ba-da, da-ba-da-de-da-da-da" bit played on the guitar; if it hadn't had an unusual opening, I wouldn't have thought it to be a cover song. But is there anything there *isn't* a metal cover version of these days? They also played That Song I Really Like and I discovered it was, as I'd believed, by Megadeth. Today, I went into Canterbury with Klair and she suggested we went into the Indoor Market, somewhere I don't automatically go. And at once, I noticed the album with it on for £6. Naturally, I had to make it mine. I also got to watch Klair having her belly button pierced. (Since I refuse to get anything of my own pierced, I wanted to observe the procedure while I had the chance.) The room looked rather like a dentist's and the process looked rather bizarre and was surprisingly quick. Today, I wore a red t-shirt and black trousers. I haven't done this for a long time (despite the fact that I first won the attentions of Bryn on one occasion when I did), since it is not the most gawtheeque or metaaaal of ensembles, but I did it again today so as to lessen the chances of hassle in town. (I am aware that that is Giving In, but Canterbury in summer can be a terrifying place.) Since my discovery of Avril Lavigne, I haven't dared wear a tie, but it would seem that, in the recent years in which I've mostly ignored popular music, aevil rock stars have lain claim to yet another of my standard modes of attire, because people keep telling me I look like a White Stripe. MEEP! (I would have thought I'd look more like a Red Stripe, but . . . sorry.) Speaking of popular music, while waiting in Keynes Bar for the Beercart-going troops to assemble on last night, I found myself watching the video jukebox. Boy, it was scary. The first video I saw featured a million copies of the same geen, mincing around and tugging at the sides of his white jacket. The second featured some dirty (blackleg!) miner types, making me wonder if it could be "Sonne" by Rammstein at first, but no - they made their way above ground into a dance studio, where two teenyboppers were dancing. One of them joined in their routine and the other one started playing the tambourine. I had never witnessed a better example of something that was both deeply surreal and incredibly pants. Currently, US interrogators are torturing former Iraqi leaders by forcing them listen to heavy metal - and it's working. But surely some of them must like it? I know the first time I heard it wittingly (my brother used to listen to Iron Maiden, but that was before I started differentiating between music I liked, music I really liked, and music I disliked), aged eleven, upon seeing Motorhead performing "The Ace Of Spades" in The Young Ones episode "Bambi", I was transfixed and delighted. Then again, I had at least heard pop and rock music before then, which the Iraqi leaders probably haven't. Thursday 22 May 2003 Last night, though I was invited to join a group of 22 people seeing "The Matrix Reloaded" on its opening night, I declined, in favour of seeing a play I wouldn't necessarily get to see again. But because my writing was going well when I was meant to leave the house, I didn't bother going to that either. Later, I watched "Lovely And Amazing" on video avec Soppygit and Jo (since it was Jo's last evening in Canterbury. WAH!) It was, er, neither? No, it was all right, but even the good characters, who hated the lack of concern they got from their partners and (potential) employers, seemed deeply superficial themselves. I suppose this may well be a realistic picture of life, but it didn't make me enjoy it greatly. Today, also in honour of Jo's departure, I ate Breakfast Part #2 in the sitting room. Usually, I eat quickly in my room, so I can get on with Other Stoof, but, eating in front of the TV, I quickly became deeply engrossed in "Trisha", a talk show, which was showing, and watched the rest of it. I have never actually seen an entire talk show, since I believe them silly, disrespectful, melodramatic and so forth. I used to see snippets of either Oprah or Ricki Lake, I can't even remember which, while playing pool in the sixth form common room at school, but it didn't make me want to watch a whole one. Today, on "Trisha", though, there was this teenage girl wearing two vivid clashing shades of pink, who had left home to live with her much older lover, who was also on the show. The aim was for her to reconcile matters with her mother. But, all of a sudden, the girl declared that she wanted to go home to her Mummy, much to her lover's dismay. She hadn't been happy with him for months, but she hadn't even had a chance to talk to her mother - until now! Obviously, there were a lot of holes in this story, but then there are a lot of holes in life. Whether the situation was melodramaticised or not, I was so hooked! I am so hooked! ARGH! I mean, I guess it's useful for me, as a writer, to watch these things, to get a much more effective glimpse into human behaviour than online journals provide, and also because The Sort Of People Who Would Go On Talk Shows And Similarly Exhibitionist Programmes are becoming an increasing fraction of the population. But still! The horror! Fortunately, Jo took her TV home with her. I have a TV, but I can't find the manual, and can't remember how to tune it. Phew. At the end of the programme, a voiceover promoted the next talk show (which I resisted). It was going on about how much Matrix-related stuff featured, and concluded with, "It'll be totally Matrix-tastic!" CRINGE! Friday 23 May 2003 Trips to the vending machines are rarely boring. Today, when I went down to them, the woman who restocks them was filling one up. And, knowing my addiction to Mars Bars, she offered me this new product called a Mars Midnight. I declined, since I really had to write a gig review for Kaleidoscope and I didn't want any unusual confectionary to stand in the way of my (non-existent) concentration. And I've since discovered my suspicions are correct: the chocolate in them is dark. Which doesn't sound very appealing to me - dark chocolate and mint is a fine combination, but dark chocolate and white nougat? No ta Kenneth. But I feel all famous and special and stoof! Apart from that, I went a new rock night in Canterbury last night and was let in for free, for helping to promote it! My ticket had "VIP" on it! (And it was really, really good as well. It was very indie-biased and rather cheesy, but I enyojed it lotsly, spazzing out to BOTH Electric Six tracks. The atmosphere was great and the speakers were uber-bassy. Even mincy tracks like "Girl From Mars" sounded really beeping heavy, and "Peaches" by Presidents Of The USA (something I don't think I've ever heard in a club before) sounded fantastic. Amazing bass, how sweet the sound!) And this morning, I got an e-mail from someone starting at UKC next year, asking me what the rock scene and people were like. Ooh, I have become a source of authority! Weird thing about last night: I wore my black and white stripy armwarmers, something I've only done one on night out previously because ARGH, THEY WON'T GO WITH ANYTHING! And of course, this was the first night I can remember attending where they've played The White Stripes! How appropriate. But not only are they stalking me, but I danced. Gaaah! rathergood has a lot to answer for! Monday 26 May 2003 Despite feeling rather under the weather lately, I managed to stay up until just before two last night, on account of sitting in Keynes and Rutherford bars for five and a half hours. The only real excitement was this guy who's normally ok throwing glasses at the walls. That was at ten thirty. Half of us hurriedly switched bar at that point. This morning, I have been redecorating my evil wallet. It was kind of denimy and had junk like "real life", "fashion" and "alf ralf" (seriously!) written on it in lilac and tacky silver sparkles. But because it was a Christmas present and I couldn't find a wallet with a reasonable set of compartments anywhere, I used it. Now it is covered in black gaffa tape and has some Kerrang stickers, a ring reinforcement, some gold stars and some nailpolish slogans and pictures on it. Happy now! I also returned to my attempts to making cyberwear. Unfortunately, after covering a t-shirt with silver gaffa tape, though it looked coolen und groovig I couldn't get it on. I couldn't get it off either. Fortunately Soppygit rescued me from its evil bondage. I'm now making it into a (larger) basquey thing, but after my lack of success in using a hole punch and wool to make laces, I think I'll have to give up on my resolution to never use normal sewing components in my fashion design and buy a zip. Wednedsay 28 May 2003 I am in love. Again. With Hengband. (An Angband variant. Angband being a graphically-challenged dungeons and dragons computer game, to which I was addicted in my midteens.) O! It makes me so yojous when the screen is filled with the multi-coloured punctuation, representing beeploads of cool beep that's mine, all mine, to use as I wish! How deeply satisfied I feel when it says, "You have just completed your quest!" I could wax further about its multiple charms, but I want to get back to playing it!"
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