Challenging Pople at Physics

Depressed. Tres depressed. Sehr depressed. 

See, I am multicultural. Unlike my savoury pastry product, unfortunately.

I’m not actually depressed. I am just sad. I am doing my physics and listening to Christmas music. I am actually listening to Fairytale of New York. Jen, do you remember once we were at your house for a sleepover (Christmas or otherwise, can’t remember), and I made you play that song over and over again? Well, I did. And do.

Song change. Tom Jones. Great.

I was just thinking about how when you’re small you know how life is and you know that one day it will change but it won’t be next year or the year after or the year after or the year after. And you feel as if it won’t ever come, but you think to yourself that when it does you will be ready for it.

Well, I feel like next Christmas things will be different somehow. And I don’t feel ready for it.

Song change. Kylie Minogue.

I mean, I won’t still be at school. That’s crazy. I’ve been at school my whole life. And whilst, if things go how I want, I’ll probably be in education for years and years, it’s not the same. When did I stop bringing in fun-sized Mars bars for the class on my birthday? Years ago, I know, but it doesn’t feel like that long since I was standing in Sainsburys in a panic because I didn’t know how many people liked Milky Way bars. 

Song change. Samantha Mumba.

There’s another thing. Whatever happened to Samantha Mumba? Plus, I’ve outgrown all of my favourite characters in books and on tv. Ben recorded As Told By Ginger for me, and I used to look up to her and think she was really old. By the time Mia graduates from high school I’ll have a sixteen year old of my own. I used to be three years younger than Harry Potter. I’m forgetting how to play the guitar. Samantha Mumba is not a good singer. 

Didn’t you always think that when you were older you’d be, well, perfect? Like you’d be a…song change. Spice Girls. Yes, like you’d be a Sporty Spice or a Posh Spice or a drama person or a maths person and everything would be great. And all of these people in my head always used to walk really fast. I think we may have hit on something there. But, no, for example, I’m quite a sciency person and you’d think I’d therefore know how a pendulum works. BUT I DON’T! I DON’T GET IT!!!

Song change. Elton John. That’s pushing it a bit too far. 

I’m going to go and see if Wikipedia can save me.  

I have been reading Emma this morning. They have a discussion that goes on for two pages about how Jane Fairfax must never be allowed to walk to the post office again in case she catches a cold. And then…well, I’ll type it out for you:

“Open the windows!–but surely Mr Churchill, nobody would think of opening the windows at Randalls. Nobody could be so imprudent! Dancing with open windows!–I am sure, neither your father nor Mrs Weston would suffer it!”

“Ah! sir–but a thoughtless young person will sometimes step behind a window-curtain, and throw up a sash, without its being expected. I have often known it done myself.”

“Have you indeed, sir?–Bless me! I never could have supposed it. But I live out of the world, and often am astonished at what I hear.”

WTF?! I swear, the people in this book spend half their time discussing marriage, and the other half discussing droughts of air. Oh, also pianos.  It is somewhat ridiculous.

I am also doing more research about Jamie Oliver, king of school meals. Apparently, as I am doing a cake for children’s packed lunches, and he has opinions about school meals, this is RELEVANT research. Snore.

I have memorised my German coursework. Further snoring.

I have seen some Gilmore Girls related t-shirts on the internet that I love. However, I have decided to fashion my own, rather than ordering from America, because you should have seen the postage costs.

Jen, don’t you think this is sooo cute?:

Anyways, squees to all of you,

Sophie 

English: Is. Killing! Me;

The punctuation! The repetition! The lists of three!

Also, discussion over who is and is not a nerd; debating who is and is not gay; cutting some of the longer-hairs in our classroom: not goob.

None of it makes any sense any more. I don’t think “ooh, I have to write an argument, I know, lets use guilt and emotive language!” The words just come into my head, and I write them down, and if it’s not emotive or persuasive or argumentative, then the examiner will just have to DEAL WITH IT!

Also, yay, maths!

Also, Abbi it’s your fault I keep saying also.    

I still don’t really have time to rant. I’m meant to be doing my geography now. I just thought that my archives of November 2006 and October 2006 down at the bottom looked lonely by themselves, and thought it might be nice to send off a December 2006 to join them.

That’s probably weird, right?

Never mind - to three months of happy, illicit blogging! May the mayhem (lifts up pencil case) and anarchy (lifts up chair) continue.