Corruption

Sleep-deprivation and four A-levels are going to kill me. I would like very much to crawl into a hole and die.

Which is the regular state of things; now on to the specifics, as today wasn't that awful as school days go. And before I continue, I would like to state for the record that I really haven't always hated school this much. I am an academic, I mean it; I like reading, writing, learning, education, all that stuff. I just don't like school because everyone I liked left me.

Moving on, I didn't go to school first thing this morning; Orthopaedics finally got round to referring me to a physiotherapist, and I went down to the Formby clinic at ten. Pedar came with me for once, happily reading the Reader's Digest while I got poked and prodded within an inch of my life. I wasn't expecting to be able to walk afterwards, but amazingly enough I hobbled out of there and off to Formby station. Pedar disappeared in the direction of the hospital, and I went to school.

I figured I deserved some sort of perk for the taking-apart of my metatarsals, so I was inexplicably in mufti, which is a wonderful thing to leave unexplained. I went and attacked UCAS again, rather than facing Biology and Rice-Oxley, and got given homework by Mrs Hurst. I suppose I do resemble a first year from behind. In between outbursts of swearing at UCAS, I discovered I was in a bit of trouble.

Last night, trkkr47 sent me fic to beta; it was two am by that point and I merely forwarded it to my school account so I could do it today in any frees I might or might not have. This morning, I got a polite email from Sean, the network administrator (the same guy who sent Patrick polite emails that time he sent me pictures of himself in a dress) telling me the email had been picked up by the system as suspect. "Three instances of bad language."

I attempted to explain myself, and Sean replied again with a much nicer email, telling me he knows I'm not a baby and the sweeper system is mainly in place for the "lower-school loonies."

It made me smile. I took the beta down to do in the library, sitting in and watching over it when Mrs Barry went to lunch. I'd betaed half of it when Sam and quackaquacka arrived back from lunch, having some sort of argument about who corrupted whom.

The argument eventually turned on me, of course. "You corrupted me," Miranda said, or words to that effect, and I was a little miffed.

"How have I corrupted you?"

Bless the girl, she is of course intelligent enough to doubt everything I say, and she looked over my shoulder. "You're beta-ing slash on a school computer," she said, with implacable logic.

I was impressed. There were only three lines visible of the Word document. Either she knows me very well or she recognises slash in all its forms. Or possibly both.

Sam and Miranda, as I have said often, will soon be all that remains of what was once a thriving crowd of slashers. Miranda eventually disappeared with some teasing remarks about Sirius/Remus, and I dispatched the beta and ambled off to Chemistry (organic).

Four A-levels, definitely going to kill me. Fidan is still plugging a Chemistry field trip to Cadburyland, specially as the entire class got A grades at AS and couldn't have done better. At the same time, the class is getting excited because we're onto a new homologous series. Carboxylic acids. We make our own fun.

I went home as soon as possible after that, drowsing through English and Othello, and got home to find my entire family are here and making a lot of noise. I'm very tired and would like to go to bed.