vingt-six: l'université.

Wow I am really bad at blogging.
My room at university looks out onto this pond/lake thing, the ducks and geese wake me up all the time with these incessant quacking/squawking sounds. Irritating much.

I never expected to miss Burnley, but then again I don't think it's Burnley I miss. I miss my family, my friends, and definitely Mr Wyatt. He's too lovely

English and French is a hard degree. There's lots of poetry involved, wonderful. I do like Baudelaire though.

Anyways, so next week involves:

Monday - obligatory make a fool of myself day in my French Oral Class then sleep forever

Tuesday - one lecture day where I attempt to do all of my work, lovelyy. Free film night with casino games, drinks and quizzes, thank you Warwick Student Cinema.

Wednesday - one seminar day where I again try to do work. Flat meal, we're actually going to cook something good and wholesome. Of course I was on buying wine and chocolate cake duties

Thursday - I hate Thursdays. They're always rubbish. Howl's Moving Castle is on at the SU cinema though, this will cheer me up

Friday - horrible day with horrible classes. This will be packing day, as on Saturday I'm coming home for reading week, ohhyess.

I might actually make an attempt to update this now, wouldn't that be fun.

P.S. I got twitter. HA

vingt-cinq: résumé.

This is why I never keep diaries.

Eventually I get bored, or I just forget. Or things get in the way. This has been neglected because of all of the above.

The last time I wrote was about a week before I turned 18. That seems like an age ago, probably because it was. Since then I've danced, sang, read, grown up, felt younger than ever, gone on adventures, loved, shopped, gushed, been terrified, been rejected, failed, succeeded, worried, drank and drank, worked and worked, written pages and pages, read plenty more pages and pages, worried some more, passed my driving test, listened, been listened to, seen some sights, taken pictures, had pictures taken of me, cried, laughed, embarrassed myself and slept.

The pile of books by the side of my bed has decreased at least. Even though I keep adding to it, just as I keep adding to my iTunes library. Though I do think that Spotify is pure genius, in all honesty.

I'm usually so good at committing myself to things.

Yet here I am, trying to summarise the last few months in a couple of paragraphs, again because I'm lacking in time. All the time, I have no time. I guess that's quite normal, though.

How naive is too naive

vingt-quatre: passionnant.

Beyond excited.
Beyond tired.
Beyond this blog, evidently.

It's not that good that I don't have any time left for this anymore. In the summer it was so easy.

vingt-trois: beaucoup de travail.

There's a big pile of books by the side of my bed waiting to be read. It's gradually getting smaller, like my amount of free time.

vingt-deux - occupée.

I've been too busy to write anything. This is sad.

But it's also really good I suppose. Despite all the work I've had to do lately, I've been off out to Warwick [uni, we got incomprehensibly lost in Birmingham on the way], gigs and parties and the like. My UCAs has been sent off, which is a little bit scary if I'm honest. Also scary is my upcoming driving test, the date of which I'm telling absolutely no one, except that I tell people that its soon. Whether I'll pass or not is another question entirely, I doubt it but I'm not too bothered either way.

Things are pretty good though.

I must make a note to go out with Paddy some time, his nights out sound boss. I just found out that "boss" is an expression from Liverpool which is a bit weird. I've moved on from one obsession to another lately, this happens every once in a while.

My driving instructor reckons that I'm an oddball, but quite brilliant. I guess that's true, if not it's the best description of me that I've heard so far.

vingt et un - aller en ville.

So last night Emily and I went off into town at night. To Hellbound, ohhyes. Great night, even though we didn't stay long because of my [awful] driving this morning, but at least we know now that its good and everything. Might be fun convincing Jess of this though like.

My History teacher either loves me or hates me, I haven't decided.

We're all having to be ridiculously organised at college at the moment; UCAS and stuff has to be sorted out pretty quickly, especially for me and Jess for Oxford and for Em with medicine. I've rewritten my personal statement about a million times and I have a reading list that's immense, ohhdear.

Making more plans to go out though now.

I love listening to the Donnie Darko soundtrack, someone dressed up as Frank on the college walk thing, impressive much

vingt - au lycée.

The 5th day of September and my first Friday back at college.

Form is good, at least I see catcat there, because English language is quite bad without her and the teacher I had last year. My form teacher is a bit bizarre though like.

English lit is good, obviously. Ha.

History is bad/good. I haven't decided yet. hmm. All I know is that it's ridiculous, teacher-wise. It has potential to be a good class though, at least I have Jess though.

French is also good, bien sûr.

Helen smuggled into my classics class on our first day back, because she's in the other one, so we're both alone now, which is incredibly ridiculous.

Whoever decided to split me and Helen up obviously was the same person who thought that purple and yellow go together and fixed tables and chairs in the canteen is a good idea.

Paddy keeps making me laugh on our coach. The journey to Blackburn and back has never gone so fast. I'm going to teach him to speak French, bit by bit.

Short weeks are always good.

BUT
asif I have to dress up as a rat for my form! I mean we all do but still. I know the whole walk in the park is for a good cause, but there are some ridiculous people coming up with these ideas. They need a slap.

I bought Elle today, which only depressed me because I have no money and I want too many things. Gutted. At least college isn't too bad. I like fresh starts.