And I'm the reason that you're standing still...

I am so tired I've emerged the other side as a wide-eyed sober semi-drunk who needs to be shot for her own good. I'm serious. At last half a dozen people stopped and asked me today if I was feeling quite all right, and in a tone that indicated recreational substances would soon be entering the conversation.

But I'm all right, it's all all right, because I'm going to a convention tomorrow with hathy_col, osiris13 and amchau. I will be awake and alive for that, if heavily in denial about the amount of sleep I need.

In other news, I did go to school today, I did hand in my Oxford form - well, a photocopy of it. The original forms are under lock and key in the careers office. The one I was practising on is dogeared and biro-besmirched and unfortunately purple, as they had run out of white paper. There seems to be an epidemic of dying photocopiers lately. I only notice these things because my one perk as head librarian is free photocopying, only not any more because there appear to be no working photocopiers left.

And after that exceptionally boring digression, I will head straight into another one and talk about my latest mentoring session, this one for Economics, which was boring but at least conducted in the library, and I could feel Miranda behind me reading about glam rock, which is always a comfort. As she said afterwards, reading about glam rock and punk stands you in good stead in so many fandoms. I can think of three immediately, and I'm sure there must be more.

I also went out to get camera film and got yelled at by Mrs Enstone. Well, not personally. She gathered the whole of the Upper Sixth into the dining room to shout at them. I'm pretty sure none of her comments were directed at me, concerning as they did people and their reluctance to accept their predicted grades. The story began in my own English class, so I do know something about it; basically, it's full of people who didn't get the As they wanted predicted for them, and can't now apply to certain courses. I actually agree with Mrs Enstone on this - the predicted grades are designed to build on AS, and it's frankly impossible to get better at A2 than you did at AS, because the former is harder. All my predicted grades are the same as my AS ones.

But my class is full of spoiled children, it seems, who all went to Stanfield, whose parents have come in to be discourteous. Or so it seems. Maybe I'm just a bitch. We shall see.

My own form is gone, anyway, and thank you, everyone who posted the comments on the last entry. It really made me feel all happy and squee that I'd actually done the damn thing. Yay.

Makes me feel like I now have nothing to do, which is far from true but a refreshing change. I have to go to lessons, for one thing, attempt not to cry during Advanced Extension - this nearly happened today, as it's going to kill me - and do that whole essay-writing thing. I went to Chemistry, where this happened-

Mrs Colvin: Trinitrotiluene. Anyone know what it is?

Me: TNT. Yay.

Fidan: Yay?

Me: Well, it explodes.

(later)

Mrs Colvin: ...and organic metalloids are particularly interesting...

Me: Do they explode?

and Biology, where the lower school have been making those bodies again. We did it, too - you draw around a person on a very big piece of paper, then draw in the face and the body and all the internal organs with labels and the finished product goes on the wall. Traditionally, the "body" is given a name, and I remember the one I worked on was called Juanita, of all things.

Well, one of the latest ones was lying on a lab bench. It has short greying hair and glasses, and has been named "Mrs Rice-Pudding."

Was it wrong to laugh? Rola suggested it was a "tribute." Rice-Oxley remains unconvinced.

Have spent the evening putting stuff together and watching Family (yay for Tara!). Off to the convention tomorrow, and probably won't be online again until Monday, so until then goodbye. This is going to be fun.