Journalism/Law/PR

This morning, the Oasis reports came back. I remember pausing for just a moent before opening it - and then I remember being very happy when the top thing on the list is "Journalism/Law/PR" - and I seem to have 100% interest in them, with full emphasis on written communication. My interest on a medical career - way down at "marginal" with 35%! Yayness!
I was right. Despite everything, I was right. I am not cut out to be a doctor, and I don't want to be one.

I would go into that in more detail, but I don't have the time, and I don't have the time to check my spelling and/or typos either. Anyway... Drama at lunch, we have recruited Caroline and Libby as part of our scene. I was proud of it, but we never got to perform it because the time all went on the first scene. Mr Dunne was trying to teach Charlotte and Rosie how to inject sexual tension into the scene with the use of physical contact between the actors. The troubling thing is he's really very good at it in a non-perverted way -I guess you have to be a good actor to be a drama teacher.

And then there was my French oral, which was all right, but more on that later.
Should go.

Hands

My hands are too cold to write in this thing. Much too cold.

The French oral wasn't so bad, after all. Helena and I decamped to the holding room (sounds like prison, doesn't it?) and we both attempted to learn French. Mrs Fairburn, first year biology teacher, attempted to cheer us up by telling us she was also taking a GCSE this year, in Italian! I was involved in thinking about this, and so the time went too quickly, and I was given the roleplay to prepare in a daze.
I got it prepared quickly, and went into a daydream. For some reason all I could think of was the poster above my head, of a production of Moliere's L'École des Femmes - une comedie francaise. There was a girl on it, and someone had given her a moustache and glasses with black marker, and she was all I could think about.

And then they came for me, and I couldn't think about her any more.

I couldn't quite get into the swing of it until after the presentation - I shook all the way through it. In the conversation, my earrings fell out and landed on the desk, which was disturbing. I had been talking about ma meillure amie - Becca. I said she was pretty, tall, and liked stupid jokes - and clink! two spiky hoop earrings hit the desk. Strange.

And that is all. I want to go and find coffee because I'm cold and in a strange mood and slightly pre-menstrual.

Eid Mubarek!

Ah, I almost forgot.
To anyone this applies to... actually, fuck that, to everyone...

Eid Mubarek!
Be sure to eat as much as possible!

And in other news, I am PMT-y. After Hathor's brief stint believing she was the Second Immaculate Conception and my various attempts at trying to write the Synoptic Holy Mersey River Gospels, I thought I could cope with pretty much anything.
But no. My life sucks. Over the next few days, if I piss anyone off, I meant it. And I wouldn't be too heartbroken if all unfortunates who possess Y-chromosomes all fell down a hole around now.
And let it be a deep hole. Let it lead to the deepest pits of hell.