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I only sleep with Democrats.
Nov. 2nd, 2004 08:03 pmLight up, light up, as if you have a choice,
And even if you cannot hear my voice,
I'll be right beside you here.
Fidan just called for the express purpose of telling me I ought to wear uniform tomorrow. To which my response is, aargh. Fucking, fucking, fucking BMAT that I am going to fail so spectactacularly, and I'm now at the state where I'm so angry I'm tired of being angry. It takes some doing, to be so angry with everything so comprehensively. The one bright spot on my horizon was my nice new knee-high boots that I have not worn yet, and was going to wear tomorrow as subtle fuck-you addressed in direction of BMAT. So much for that. I hate this.
I'm starting at the end and not the beginning, but I don't care. I'm allowed to be furious. I arrived in the morning to be told by Mentor #2 that I must come immediately because of my philosopy non-knowledge (that's epistemological, or something) and then by my former Chemistry teacher, that woman who shall not be named, that I must come at once to get my photograph taken for the Crosby Herald, and all I wanted to do was hand out ballot boxes. Mr Evans was wearing a badge: "I only sleep with Democrats."
I voted for myself. In case I haven't mentioned it, I'm the Democrat candidate. Mr Evans wanted to hold a primary, but in absence of that I'm the candidate by default, being the only leftie in the entire sixth form, or so it seems to me. The ballot papers were collected, but people kept handing them to me as the day progressed until I acquired a box from somewhere and generally stood in as mobile human polling station.
Which was good, more or less, and I've been making everyone vote. Fidan said she didn't want any of the candidates, so she wouldn't vote. I got annoyed and started ranting about democratic rights and people dying for them and said she should abstain. She did, by writing " F. Jmor" on the ballot paper and voting for herself.
Then there's Prizegiving. Oh-so-wanky exercise in pretension held at the Philharmonic on Friday. I apparently have a prize to receive, but I wonder, as I already have my Harrison scholarship and so there's nothing for me to actually receive, so to speak. Anyway, they had a rehearsal for it today. It took a solid forty-five minutes I would rather have spent counting votes, and when I finally got there they were on the final stretch. If Merchants' became an unexpected American state, the election results:
Becky BGeorge W. Bush - 23% (158)
meJohn Kerry - 61% (358)
AngelaRalph Nader - 16% (70)
Abstentions (Fidan) - ~0% (1)
I won. Yay. The point of this little exercise was of course to get the lower school interested in politics, or at least aware of its existence. Sam told me some people in her form looked at the ballot paper and asked, "Who are they?"
I despair. Although, I was doing question-and-answer on Kerry's policy yesterday, and the issue that came up over and over again was Bush and his stance on gay marriage. "It's like banning love!" said one girl, and they all yelled, "Yeah!"
I'd brought Sam and Miranda along, and we exchanged glances. It was amusing.
Which brings us all back to the main reason for my general anger, and that is the American presidential election is today, and will not happen again for four years. Also, there'll never be an election like this - not so close and contested and right in the middle of my political education, what with A-levels and PPE interviews and all sorts. I wanted to stay up with Pedar when the coverage starts at midnight and throw popcorn and heckle the Republicans and watch it happen. I got letters, plural, from Balliol today - they want PPE-related essays, and one of mine is on the flaws in the American electoral college.
But BMAT is tomorrow and I "need sleep." Too right, I do. I do all the work, the essays, the Oxford-aimed reading, the revision, the boring bits, and miss out on the real world in favour of fucking Biomedical Admissions, in subjects I can't do, will fail, all for a course I don't want to do and a person I don't want to be.
Now, of course, I don't have time. My mother is wailing that I haven't done any revision (no need - I'm going to fail with or without it) and that I can read the newspaper tomorrow and wait till 2008, like it's perfectly reasonable or god knows what, and I hate the blank look in her eyes that suggests so clearly that she has no idea why this is important to me, or that it is at all. If Oxford reject me, as they may well do, then that's it, so I wanted to watch this thing tonight like I still have a justified interest.
I can tell you now exactly what will happen. I'll try and watch it, and my mother will wail and guilt-trip me, and I'll go to bed and stare at the ceiling because I can't sleep, and I'll go to school in the morning in fucking school uniform, no boots, fail BMAT and discover Bush has won.
I hate this.
And even if you cannot hear my voice,
I'll be right beside you here.
Fidan just called for the express purpose of telling me I ought to wear uniform tomorrow. To which my response is, aargh. Fucking, fucking, fucking BMAT that I am going to fail so spectactacularly, and I'm now at the state where I'm so angry I'm tired of being angry. It takes some doing, to be so angry with everything so comprehensively. The one bright spot on my horizon was my nice new knee-high boots that I have not worn yet, and was going to wear tomorrow as subtle fuck-you addressed in direction of BMAT. So much for that. I hate this.
I'm starting at the end and not the beginning, but I don't care. I'm allowed to be furious. I arrived in the morning to be told by Mentor #2 that I must come immediately because of my philosopy non-knowledge (that's epistemological, or something) and then by my former Chemistry teacher, that woman who shall not be named, that I must come at once to get my photograph taken for the Crosby Herald, and all I wanted to do was hand out ballot boxes. Mr Evans was wearing a badge: "I only sleep with Democrats."
I voted for myself. In case I haven't mentioned it, I'm the Democrat candidate. Mr Evans wanted to hold a primary, but in absence of that I'm the candidate by default, being the only leftie in the entire sixth form, or so it seems to me. The ballot papers were collected, but people kept handing them to me as the day progressed until I acquired a box from somewhere and generally stood in as mobile human polling station.
Which was good, more or less, and I've been making everyone vote. Fidan said she didn't want any of the candidates, so she wouldn't vote. I got annoyed and started ranting about democratic rights and people dying for them and said she should abstain. She did, by writing " F. Jmor" on the ballot paper and voting for herself.
Then there's Prizegiving. Oh-so-wanky exercise in pretension held at the Philharmonic on Friday. I apparently have a prize to receive, but I wonder, as I already have my Harrison scholarship and so there's nothing for me to actually receive, so to speak. Anyway, they had a rehearsal for it today. It took a solid forty-five minutes I would rather have spent counting votes, and when I finally got there they were on the final stretch. If Merchants' became an unexpected American state, the election results:
Abstentions (Fidan) - ~0% (1)
I won. Yay. The point of this little exercise was of course to get the lower school interested in politics, or at least aware of its existence. Sam told me some people in her form looked at the ballot paper and asked, "Who are they?"
I despair. Although, I was doing question-and-answer on Kerry's policy yesterday, and the issue that came up over and over again was Bush and his stance on gay marriage. "It's like banning love!" said one girl, and they all yelled, "Yeah!"
I'd brought Sam and Miranda along, and we exchanged glances. It was amusing.
Which brings us all back to the main reason for my general anger, and that is the American presidential election is today, and will not happen again for four years. Also, there'll never be an election like this - not so close and contested and right in the middle of my political education, what with A-levels and PPE interviews and all sorts. I wanted to stay up with Pedar when the coverage starts at midnight and throw popcorn and heckle the Republicans and watch it happen. I got letters, plural, from Balliol today - they want PPE-related essays, and one of mine is on the flaws in the American electoral college.
But BMAT is tomorrow and I "need sleep." Too right, I do. I do all the work, the essays, the Oxford-aimed reading, the revision, the boring bits, and miss out on the real world in favour of fucking Biomedical Admissions, in subjects I can't do, will fail, all for a course I don't want to do and a person I don't want to be.
Now, of course, I don't have time. My mother is wailing that I haven't done any revision (no need - I'm going to fail with or without it) and that I can read the newspaper tomorrow and wait till 2008, like it's perfectly reasonable or god knows what, and I hate the blank look in her eyes that suggests so clearly that she has no idea why this is important to me, or that it is at all. If Oxford reject me, as they may well do, then that's it, so I wanted to watch this thing tonight like I still have a justified interest.
I can tell you now exactly what will happen. I'll try and watch it, and my mother will wail and guilt-trip me, and I'll go to bed and stare at the ceiling because I can't sleep, and I'll go to school in the morning in fucking school uniform, no boots, fail BMAT and discover Bush has won.
I hate this.
