I have once again got to the stage of opening the blank word document and being filled with complete and utter dread. Why is the blank page just so threatening? I feel that I have to condense my entire being into a limited number of characters and be judged upon how well I have advanced in life.
At the tender age of 18 who am I at all? If mother Theresa was applying for university I wonder what she would write about... Emma Watson is but a single year older than me and she's a beautiful little millionaire witch. With the brains of Einstein and a face comparable to Doris Day during the Calamity Jane phase what in the world did she choose to write about first?! I hope she made some lovely little remark about Hogwarts obviously being her first choice.
I have cats that I have to force apart because they throw themselves at each other at every opportunity which leads into some whirling cat fight of scratching, squawking and biting. And then an uncontrollable need to control my life. Being an 18 year old girl having a gap year has turned out to be somewhat stressful. Where is the university sorting hat when you need it?
Wednesday, 10 November 2010
Tuesday, 9 November 2010
The joy of choosing universities
The modern day teen dreams of going to university, finding their prince and graduating with a square hat which is thrown in the air to celebrate three years of drinking, playing, sleeping oh, and 'studying'.
I am currently teetering on the edge of hysteria whilst choosing where I will spend three years of pleasure that graduates brag about until their dying day; 'Once I was so drunk I carried a full market stall from the market, back to my house just to have as a garden ornament and now I have a beautiful little job doing whatever I want.' I am obviously only concentrating on the exciting passtimes of crazy students as they tend to love the memories of their wild ways, 'back in the day'.
So what do I go for? The beautiful city that I adore that is the geordie filled Newcastle, where the grades are so high I get a nosebleed just thinking about them? Or do I go for a more achievable Liverpool John Moores, where the accent of the natives truly grinds my soul into pieces so small that even hades would befriend me?
The struggle continues.
I am currently teetering on the edge of hysteria whilst choosing where I will spend three years of pleasure that graduates brag about until their dying day; 'Once I was so drunk I carried a full market stall from the market, back to my house just to have as a garden ornament and now I have a beautiful little job doing whatever I want.' I am obviously only concentrating on the exciting passtimes of crazy students as they tend to love the memories of their wild ways, 'back in the day'.
So what do I go for? The beautiful city that I adore that is the geordie filled Newcastle, where the grades are so high I get a nosebleed just thinking about them? Or do I go for a more achievable Liverpool John Moores, where the accent of the natives truly grinds my soul into pieces so small that even hades would befriend me?
The struggle continues.
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