The Return

Hello blog fans. Sorry I haven't posted for a while. My original reason was going to be that Zach Braff hadn't posted in his blog, so why should I, but since my last entry, he's made three, so that's probably not going to work now. So I guess I can only put it down to laziness. Actually no, that's not fair on myself (I realise as I force myself to think about it). Part of the reason I haven't written is because I had an email to write to Oxford (more on that later), and I promised myself that I wouldn't write in my blog or embark upon any other writing projects until I had done that. By the time I'd got that finished, which was quite a long time after I started due to efforts to perfect the tone, I had quite a lot to write about in here, so I just got into that vicious circle of "I'll do it tomorrow"s, with the more putting off I did, the more I had to write about, leading to me not writing anything at all. Until now, obviously. So that's that.

Well my Oxford email would probably be a sensible place to start, seeing as I've already mentioned it. When I made my last entry, I was feeling slightly depressed and suicidal about uni and stuff, but the more observant amongst you, and possibly the more stupid as well, will have noticed by now that I haven't killed myself. A few days after making my last entry, one of my sleepless nights actually became quite productive. I basically just gave everything a really good think, and decided that if I really didn't want to do Computer Science, I didn't have to. Taking a gap year wouldn't be the end of the world. Then my mum walked into my room for some reason (this was around 4am) and I told her what I'd been thinking about (bare in mind that she didn't even though that I was miserable about my Cambridge offer at this stage). She was really understanding and said that she wouldn't make me do anything if I didn't want to. I told her to promise not to tell dad, so she did. Then, for some reason, I told her about all my depression and bullying problems and stuff. Then I watched Dutch football on Channel 5. Then I heard my mum and dad fighting. Then I found out that she'd told him what I'd said. Then she shouted at me and told me I was going to Cambridge. So she obviously didn't take it as well as I thought she had at first, but she seems to be okay with everything now. Anyway, I decided it would be a really good idea if I emailed Oxford, the head of maths to be specific, telling him about my situation, asking if they could make me an offer to study Maths and Philosophy there, starting next year. Funnily enough, he declined, but the email was really nice. Hopefully I've at least cemented my name in his mind to increase my chances of an offer if I do decide to apply next year. (This isn't at all certain, even now. I don't really want to do the compsci at Cambridge, but at the same time I don't really want to take a gap year, so it's still up in the air. I'll probably just accept the Cambridge offer anyway, then pull out of UCAS at the last moment if I decided that I really, really don't want to do the degree there.) Both emails available on request.

If my Cambridge offer has been good for anything, it's been in proving my Economics teacher wrong (the one who said I wouldn't get into Cambridge, not the one who thinks I'm a genius). Now I knew he thought I wouldn't get into Cambridge - he didn't say it exactly, but he said something along the lines of "It's a very competitive place," which is good enough, and that's fine; he's entitled to his opinion, even if it did drag me down and make me feel shit. What's not fine is what I found out after I got the offer. Apparently, not only did he tell me that he thought I wouldn't get an offer, he told his entire form that he was shocked at the number of people who had applied to Oxbridge just for the sake of it, without a chance in hell of getting an offer, using my name as the only specific example. And just in case he hadn't gotten his point across the first time round, when I did get the offer, he went on to tell them all how shocked he was by the fact. My current plan is therefore to tell him that I'm going to reject the Cambridge offer because I heard about what he said, and it convinced me that I'm not good enough. Unfortunately, he'll probably be too thick to realised what I'm talking about, so it probably would have been more satisfying to have just reported him to the head of sixth form for breach of... something. Bit of a missed opportunity me thinks.

I was having an argument with a vegetarian friend the other day about the quality of vegetarian food at school whilst eating lunch, when one of the dinner ladies came up to us and told us that the dining hall (from now on to be known as 'Bates' if necessary, but it probably won't be) was about to close and we could continue our debate outside. As he walked off I said to her: "We were just talking about the quality of vegetarian food here. He thinks it's crap, but I keep telling him that all the food's crap!" She just glared at me as if I'd insulted her child or something. She said "Is that chocolate cake you've been eating crap?!" Obviously I wanted to say yes, but seeing as she was apparently quite offended by my derision of the food, I said "Well clearly I don't really think it's crap [I'm pretty sure she didn't pick up on the rhyming]! I just said that to strengthen my argument. I think the food here's great!" So I dug myself out of that hole nicely, but I don't understand why she was so upset. She didn't make the food, she serves it, otherwise I wouldn't have said anything in the first place - I was just trying to make amusing conversation! If I told some guy behind the till at McDonald's the food was shit, he wouldn't care, would he? Would he?! Maybe I'm just too detatched from my work :(

Bringing things back to the present, I got my hair relaxed, i.e. semi-permanently straightened (it lasts about six months), today. I really, really hate it. I don't know why I got it done - it goes against one of the few principles that I have! (Artificially enhancing your looks is not good, kiddies.) Well, I could say that my mum made me do it, but that really isn't an excuse. I can however say that I kept telling her that it went against my principles and therefore that she is a bitch for not changing her mind about it. Actually, there was a good reason for it. My hair is really difficult to manage, and I need to spend ages on it as it dries to make sure it doesn't end up sticking out all over the place. I thought straightening it would make things more convenient. As it happens, it wasn't straightened properly on one side anyway (the right) and so I still need to spend ages on it making sure it doesn't dry sticking out, so there's that plan down the drain. I looked like one of the Kings of Leon at first, although eventually I managed to get it down to McFly. (As in the shitty boy band, not 'Back to the Future'. Oh, if only...) So not only is it still inconvenient but it looks shit as well. Now I'm just hoping that my school tells me to get it cut so I can shave it all off asap. Fortunately, to balance out the ugliness, I'm now allowed to wear contact lenses again. Oh yeah, I got contact lenses fitted a few weeks ago. The optometrist put this yellow dye in my eye and warned me that everything might look a bit yellow for a few minutes. It didn't :(. Anyway, since last Wednesday I haven't been allowed to wear them, because I'm too retarded. Apparently I had, and I quote, "a small but very deep scratch" in the centre of my left eye, so I had to refrain from wearing them until today to prevent infection. An eye ulcer doesn't sound particularly pleasant. No idea how I got it though. I possibly put my left contact lens in folded up a couple of weeks ago, but I'm not certain. It's really weird, because until she said something, I didn't feel anything in my eye at all, but once she had, it was like chlorine in there 24/7. In fact even once it had supposedly healed, it still stung. But I can wear them again now, because I "took good care of it" (again, not really sure how - let's just call it a gift), and that's all that matters :). On another bright note, got my anti-bullying blue wristband from the BBC the other day. They said I'd get it after Christmas. When it got to February, people said that it was time to give up, but I kept believing, oh yes, I kept believing. And apparently my belief paid off. Which is nice.

I always feel like I should have some scathing political comment in here, but I never do, so something random about The Libertines instead. Who the hell picks their singles?! I know they're not really 'as one' at the moment, but the record company or whatever could at least try to pick the best songs from the album. It's a pretty good album, but their new single, 'Music When The Lights Go Out', is just poor. When I heard that they were playing their next single on the radio, I was so excited, but the only fluids excreted when I heard what it was were the tears of despair from my eyes. 'The Man Who Would Be King', on the other hand, is a brilliant song, so what are they playing at?! It was the strikingly obvious choice for their next single, and yet it was ignored in favour of what sounds like little more than a filler track. Maybe there was more to Pete's departure than met the eye :o (although I'm not sure that's actually possible).

Finally, some shouts. Firstly, a big shout out to Mehul (wow, this is like CBBC) for getting into Queen Mary's to study medicine! We all knew you could do it, even after you told us that you'd fucked up your interview. Also, a happy 18th birthday to Tom. I'm not sure if you read this, but whatever, people should know. Sorry I forgot about it. And everyone check out Nine Black Alps (new band - great stuff).