I decided to take a week off from essays. Well, Monday I did some half-hearted research towards my third essay. It's kind of interesting. I'm writing about this seventeenth century poem that very few people have written on before, and since I've got no one telling me what it's about, I have to play literary detective. The poem is a political allegory and I'm trying to work out which real-life people the characters represent, as well as come up with my own interpretation of it. This is problematic for me as in all honesty, I'm a bit of a charlatan. I'm very good at parroting clever-sounding things I've read in my essays and getting high marks, but I have no ideas of my own at all. That's probably what this essay is trying to catch people out on.
Tuesday I had to go and have some blood tests. It was fine, even though she took quite a lot of blood. Despite being squeamish I've always been good with needles. One of my proudest moments in life was being the only girl in my entire form not to cry when we had the BCG injection in Year 9. After that I saw my good friend Pip. We went out for dinner, stuffed our faces, then went and saw The Blind Side. It was a sweet movie, despite obviously trying really hard to be sweet and inspirational. There was a man sitting on his own next to me, which I always find a bit sad, though I don't know why... Why shouldn't you go see a movie on your own if you're bored and just want to get out the house?
Wednesday Lauren and Tom (yes, I'm using names now - whether they're the right names or not you shall never know) and I drove out to Windsor. We had lunch, and wandered around looking in quaint shops, and then decided to get a guided tour of Eton. That's a very fancy boys' school where people like Princes William and Harry went, in case you didn't know. It was interesting, and made me very glad I wasn't born upper-class and rich and a boy, because attending Eton sounds awful. I saw the place where Shelley carved his name on the wall (at least I think Shelley did it himself - they get professionals to carve the names now but this was in individual writing). It makes me wonder if people will be looking at my graffiti in hundreds of years time. I remember when I first came to secondary school, I wrote, "I am a crumb. I am a speck of dust" on the wall behind the stage in the main hall. I'm really not sure why I wrote this... I think it's because I felt so small and insignificant. I remember this older boy came up to me when I was writing it and said, "Excuse me, you're not allowed to write on the walls," and I just looked at him like he was a total moron and carried on, and he walked off. That was such an un-me thing to do. I don't know why I'm telling you this.
Thursday I just slobbed around the house. Friday I went to visit my friend in London. Another friend and I chilled at hers for a bit and had lunch, then we went out to Covent Garden and had a coffee and wandered around just taking in the atmopshere. Then we randomly found cheap tickets to see Chicago and so went and saw that. It was all totally spontaneous, which doesn't happen very often as I am a planning freak, but I love it. Afterwards we went back to hers and chatted and moaned about boys and giggled a lot. It was just like being fifteen and at a sleepover again.
Next morning (yesterday) I crept out the house before they'd got up, because I had to get back home to go to a picnic. It was a glorious day on Saturday - not a cloud in the sky. I hung out on a field with a random collection of friends from churches I have been to, and we listened to music and just basked in the sun. There were so many thirteen-year-olds out and about, with their backcombed hair and leggings and Hollister tops and Ugg boots, and it made me realise how old I really am. I am so old. There were a group of them smoking and I was like, "How old are they to be smoking?" in this outraged voice, and then realised that I sounded like a pensioner. They did look about thirteen though. In the evening my parents had some friends round for dinner. Usually when this happens my brother and I retreat to our rooms with beans on toast and only emerge for the obligatory five minute "So how's uni?" conversation, but this time we had dinner with them. This is another sign that I am getting old.
Today was another beautiful day, so we drove down to the New Forest. I love it there because you can hang out with the wild horses, though I always think they're coming to maul me every time they get too close. There was a friendly white one I made friends with and managed to stroke. We had lunch by the sea, then went on a walk and had ice-cream. I might even have caught the sun a bit! I'm far too pale to tan so I just burn or get freckles.
I've taken loads of photos of all these things. Maybe I'll share some here, though I doubt anyone cares. Anyway, that was my week off. Tomorrow I'm back on the essay. Woop.
Tuesday I had to go and have some blood tests. It was fine, even though she took quite a lot of blood. Despite being squeamish I've always been good with needles. One of my proudest moments in life was being the only girl in my entire form not to cry when we had the BCG injection in Year 9. After that I saw my good friend Pip. We went out for dinner, stuffed our faces, then went and saw The Blind Side. It was a sweet movie, despite obviously trying really hard to be sweet and inspirational. There was a man sitting on his own next to me, which I always find a bit sad, though I don't know why... Why shouldn't you go see a movie on your own if you're bored and just want to get out the house?
Wednesday Lauren and Tom (yes, I'm using names now - whether they're the right names or not you shall never know) and I drove out to Windsor. We had lunch, and wandered around looking in quaint shops, and then decided to get a guided tour of Eton. That's a very fancy boys' school where people like Princes William and Harry went, in case you didn't know. It was interesting, and made me very glad I wasn't born upper-class and rich and a boy, because attending Eton sounds awful. I saw the place where Shelley carved his name on the wall (at least I think Shelley did it himself - they get professionals to carve the names now but this was in individual writing). It makes me wonder if people will be looking at my graffiti in hundreds of years time. I remember when I first came to secondary school, I wrote, "I am a crumb. I am a speck of dust" on the wall behind the stage in the main hall. I'm really not sure why I wrote this... I think it's because I felt so small and insignificant. I remember this older boy came up to me when I was writing it and said, "Excuse me, you're not allowed to write on the walls," and I just looked at him like he was a total moron and carried on, and he walked off. That was such an un-me thing to do. I don't know why I'm telling you this.
Thursday I just slobbed around the house. Friday I went to visit my friend in London. Another friend and I chilled at hers for a bit and had lunch, then we went out to Covent Garden and had a coffee and wandered around just taking in the atmopshere. Then we randomly found cheap tickets to see Chicago and so went and saw that. It was all totally spontaneous, which doesn't happen very often as I am a planning freak, but I love it. Afterwards we went back to hers and chatted and moaned about boys and giggled a lot. It was just like being fifteen and at a sleepover again.
Next morning (yesterday) I crept out the house before they'd got up, because I had to get back home to go to a picnic. It was a glorious day on Saturday - not a cloud in the sky. I hung out on a field with a random collection of friends from churches I have been to, and we listened to music and just basked in the sun. There were so many thirteen-year-olds out and about, with their backcombed hair and leggings and Hollister tops and Ugg boots, and it made me realise how old I really am. I am so old. There were a group of them smoking and I was like, "How old are they to be smoking?" in this outraged voice, and then realised that I sounded like a pensioner. They did look about thirteen though. In the evening my parents had some friends round for dinner. Usually when this happens my brother and I retreat to our rooms with beans on toast and only emerge for the obligatory five minute "So how's uni?" conversation, but this time we had dinner with them. This is another sign that I am getting old.
Today was another beautiful day, so we drove down to the New Forest. I love it there because you can hang out with the wild horses, though I always think they're coming to maul me every time they get too close. There was a friendly white one I made friends with and managed to stroke. We had lunch by the sea, then went on a walk and had ice-cream. I might even have caught the sun a bit! I'm far too pale to tan so I just burn or get freckles.
I've taken loads of photos of all these things. Maybe I'll share some here, though I doubt anyone cares. Anyway, that was my week off. Tomorrow I'm back on the essay. Woop.
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