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ravenMy reasons for EPIC FAIL, let me show you them:
1. I'm having fifth-week blues early, god knows why. (Speaking of which, there are always people, freshers usually, who mock this concept. "Fifth-week blues?" they say. "How amusing, how ironic." How much they have to learn!) In other words, it's only Thursday of fourth and I spent all of yesterday weeping and woeful and finally I went back to bed and refused to go anywhere or do anything. Maria and Claire, because they are win, got me to revise never-going-out-of-my-room-again to at least never-going-out-out-of-the-flat-again, which at least got me into the kitchen and functional enough to ring the other Triarchs and say I wasn't making it to Cerberus. I feel terrible for flaking out, but I couldn't face anything. Judging from the flist, it's going around. I just hope that this doesn't mean I will spend all of fifth week in a quivering wreck on the floor, because, huh, that would be suck. This time I shall not, however a) burst into tears on tutor or indeed b) throw International Economics down four flights of stairs. That would be bad.
2. In the morning, though, I felt much better, realised I had written 1000 words on the Cold War that were truly terrible and had a tendency to use the same noun twice in a sentence, and I would have made a success of things had I not realised, three hours too late, that I arranged to meet someone today to talk about, of all things, my experience of multiculturalism, and I forgot and stood her up because I am made of LOSE. Oh, so much lose. And I totally failed to go to my International Relations lecture for the third week running, made of fail, oh yes.
3. Ben is in labs all week, so he's working on setting up a new physics experiment.
...I ate it.
Oh god. Maria said, "Aren't those the radioactive brazil nuts-"
"WHAT RADIOACTIVE BRAZIL NUTS?"
Turns out they aren't radioactive yet. And he shouldn't leave food items out on the kitchen table if he doesn't want people to eat them. But still. It's the principle of the thing. Oh god, I fail.
But. There are things of win, too.
1. Four weeks, forty-one years, far too many books and articles, and 10,000 words, but I have finished with the history of the Cold War! The truly pathetic part was me this week, getting to the plenum of the CPSU Central Committee, held by Gorbachev on January 28th, 1987, and getting very excited about it. The reason I was so pleased? I was alive. Yes, I was one week old, but the point stands.
Okay, my essays are kind of crappy, and my tutor's American and insists on actually marking them - and he calls them "papers"! - but they're DONE. I now have four more essays on things like decolonisation and suchlike, but no more actual history. I am not a historian. I have said this far too many times, but it never stops being true. I also did essays on Plato, Aristotle, Nietzsche and Hume, so I'm feeling somewhat pleased with self. It will pass. Tomorrow I have to start my first non-thinker aesthetics, and, well. The essay title is "What is art?" Not at all vague, then? I plan to sit in Starbucks all day and read about art as expression and truth and beauty, and emerge uplifted. That's the plan.
(Also,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jacinthsong and I are going to start a hippie commune for failed PPEists. All failed PPEists are welcome.)
2.shimgray is a sterling example of a good human being and turned up this morning wth a laptop for me to borrow. The university won't let you connect more than one machine to the network, so no internet, but it means I can convert my thoughts into digital data without actually leaving the flat, so that's very much fine by me. And I can actually write for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
yuletide, too.)
3. I just finished one of theds_match stories. Yeah, I've read one of them, because, see above, I have no laptop, I have the Cold War, I have what is art? and I am MADE OF FAIL. But. Find Me A Find, is lovely, lovely, made-of-win lovely. It's long, and meandering, and fluffy, and Ray and Frannie Vecchio run a matchmaking service, and it's lovely. Go, read, be made of less fail than me.
Okaaaaay. Bedtime, before I quite keel over. Angels in America tomorrow night! This pleases me.
1. I'm having fifth-week blues early, god knows why. (Speaking of which, there are always people, freshers usually, who mock this concept. "Fifth-week blues?" they say. "How amusing, how ironic." How much they have to learn!) In other words, it's only Thursday of fourth and I spent all of yesterday weeping and woeful and finally I went back to bed and refused to go anywhere or do anything. Maria and Claire, because they are win, got me to revise never-going-out-of-my-room-again to at least never-going-out-out-of-the-flat-again, which at least got me into the kitchen and functional enough to ring the other Triarchs and say I wasn't making it to Cerberus. I feel terrible for flaking out, but I couldn't face anything. Judging from the flist, it's going around. I just hope that this doesn't mean I will spend all of fifth week in a quivering wreck on the floor, because, huh, that would be suck. This time I shall not, however a) burst into tears on tutor or indeed b) throw International Economics down four flights of stairs. That would be bad.
2. In the morning, though, I felt much better, realised I had written 1000 words on the Cold War that were truly terrible and had a tendency to use the same noun twice in a sentence, and I would have made a success of things had I not realised, three hours too late, that I arranged to meet someone today to talk about, of all things, my experience of multiculturalism, and I forgot and stood her up because I am made of LOSE. Oh, so much lose. And I totally failed to go to my International Relations lecture for the third week running, made of fail, oh yes.
3. Ben is in labs all week, so he's working on setting up a new physics experiment.
...I ate it.
Oh god. Maria said, "Aren't those the radioactive brazil nuts-"
"WHAT RADIOACTIVE BRAZIL NUTS?"
Turns out they aren't radioactive yet. And he shouldn't leave food items out on the kitchen table if he doesn't want people to eat them. But still. It's the principle of the thing. Oh god, I fail.
But. There are things of win, too.
1. Four weeks, forty-one years, far too many books and articles, and 10,000 words, but I have finished with the history of the Cold War! The truly pathetic part was me this week, getting to the plenum of the CPSU Central Committee, held by Gorbachev on January 28th, 1987, and getting very excited about it. The reason I was so pleased? I was alive. Yes, I was one week old, but the point stands.
Okay, my essays are kind of crappy, and my tutor's American and insists on actually marking them - and he calls them "papers"! - but they're DONE. I now have four more essays on things like decolonisation and suchlike, but no more actual history. I am not a historian. I have said this far too many times, but it never stops being true. I also did essays on Plato, Aristotle, Nietzsche and Hume, so I'm feeling somewhat pleased with self. It will pass. Tomorrow I have to start my first non-thinker aesthetics, and, well. The essay title is "What is art?" Not at all vague, then? I plan to sit in Starbucks all day and read about art as expression and truth and beauty, and emerge uplifted. That's the plan.
(Also,
jacinthsong and I are going to start a hippie commune for failed PPEists. All failed PPEists are welcome.)2.
shimgray is a sterling example of a good human being and turned up this morning wth a laptop for me to borrow. The university won't let you connect more than one machine to the network, so no internet, but it means I can convert my thoughts into digital data without actually leaving the flat, so that's very much fine by me. And I can actually write for yuletide, too.)3. I just finished one of the
ds_match stories. Yeah, I've read one of them, because, see above, I have no laptop, I have the Cold War, I have what is art? and I am MADE OF FAIL. But. Find Me A Find, is lovely, lovely, made-of-win lovely. It's long, and meandering, and fluffy, and Ray and Frannie Vecchio run a matchmaking service, and it's lovely. Go, read, be made of less fail than me. Okaaaaay. Bedtime, before I quite keel over. Angels in America tomorrow night! This pleases me.
