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Wednesday, how I love thee. A half day generally soothes everything that is skew-wiff in my soul. Or some other less convoluted metaphor. I am actually peeved that my right, not right, privilege, that I have earned thankyouverymuch by doing four A-levels, is being happily appropriated by people who, y'know, haven't. Blah.
You know, English may not be my mother tongue, but nothing excuses the mangling I gave it in that previous paragraph.
Yes. I have spent this afternoon, which was set aside for work, writing fic, reading fic, and otherwise being entirely unproductive and more or less sitting here and wasting time. Pedar, amazingly, approves of this. He says wasting time is a good thing on occasion, and this from someone who has something like five full-time jobs simulataneously. He's going to London tomorrow. By Saturday my mother and I will have killed each other stone dead twice over.
Talking of which, I've got to go to work on Saturday, and I am terrified I'm going to fuck up. Yes, it's books. I know books. I can't work a till. And my finger still has a chunk taken out of it. Argh. Kill me now. At least it isn't waitressing. And as I said this morning, could be worse. Could have been like the poor sad having-a-test first-years in the lab next door.
Actually, I occasionally wish I was in first year. So much less work and worry, less panic that if I accidentally kill someone I will be held responsible, less of the whole your-life-depends-on-this-exam thing. Just general coasting along with the requirements of the National Curriculum.
Of course, I didn't coast at all in first year. I did all my homework and felt guilty about not handing it in, when I didn't, which was rare. I was far more conscientious then than I am now, which is a real shame as it's now I could use it. I'm such a cliché it kills me. Indian girls in secondary school are always horrifically conscientious. I'd love for one of them to be a rebel, but no. We all plod along attempting to meet our parents' incredibly high expectations. My parents' expectations are so high they have ceased to be expectations; I mean, if I get four As at AS, this means the world is happily turning on its axis. If I hadn't, then there is something not right with the universe.
Sigh. And I'm going to grow up and turn into them.
In other news, I plan to update Sleeping With Ghosts with some recs next week. Just one to start with - The Secret Life of Scientists, by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
julad. It's Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Zelenka (no, it works!), and angsty and incredibly funny in the same paragraph. Fab.
I'm now going to avoid further work and watch today's Stargate episode, which is Thor's Chariot.
I am so boring.
You know, English may not be my mother tongue, but nothing excuses the mangling I gave it in that previous paragraph.
Yes. I have spent this afternoon, which was set aside for work, writing fic, reading fic, and otherwise being entirely unproductive and more or less sitting here and wasting time. Pedar, amazingly, approves of this. He says wasting time is a good thing on occasion, and this from someone who has something like five full-time jobs simulataneously. He's going to London tomorrow. By Saturday my mother and I will have killed each other stone dead twice over.
Talking of which, I've got to go to work on Saturday, and I am terrified I'm going to fuck up. Yes, it's books. I know books. I can't work a till. And my finger still has a chunk taken out of it. Argh. Kill me now. At least it isn't waitressing. And as I said this morning, could be worse. Could have been like the poor sad having-a-test first-years in the lab next door.
Actually, I occasionally wish I was in first year. So much less work and worry, less panic that if I accidentally kill someone I will be held responsible, less of the whole your-life-depends-on-this-exam thing. Just general coasting along with the requirements of the National Curriculum.
Of course, I didn't coast at all in first year. I did all my homework and felt guilty about not handing it in, when I didn't, which was rare. I was far more conscientious then than I am now, which is a real shame as it's now I could use it. I'm such a cliché it kills me. Indian girls in secondary school are always horrifically conscientious. I'd love for one of them to be a rebel, but no. We all plod along attempting to meet our parents' incredibly high expectations. My parents' expectations are so high they have ceased to be expectations; I mean, if I get four As at AS, this means the world is happily turning on its axis. If I hadn't, then there is something not right with the universe.
Sigh. And I'm going to grow up and turn into them.
In other news, I plan to update Sleeping With Ghosts with some recs next week. Just one to start with - The Secret Life of Scientists, by
julad. It's Stargate Atlantis, McKay/Zelenka (no, it works!), and angsty and incredibly funny in the same paragraph. Fab.I'm now going to avoid further work and watch today's Stargate episode, which is Thor's Chariot.
I am so boring.
