This is a situation that personally I think is felt the world over by students of all ages, though particularly A-Level/Uni students that actually GET work over the weekends (all younger years, this isn't a shot at you -- trust me).
This weekend, I have to write a history essay ('Why was the Petition of Right passed in 1628?') and makes notes on another historical topic ('Why did the Peasants Revolt break out?'), plus the standard living nightmare that is 'Wider Reading'. Then I have to write the draft/commentary of my English Language coursework. As well as that, I have to write a monologue + commentary for English Literature and a 'tension graph' for Hamlet (whatever the hell that means). And then answer questions on Research Methods for Psychology.
And yet, I still end up writing a blog/on Facebook/writing/reading/watching meaningless television for as long as I can justify, which means that I'll be awake until about 4am on Monday finishing most of it off. Now, I know that all of this will happen. I know that I will be grumpy as hell on Monday. And yet......it happens every weekend.
So my question is simply this: WHY?!?!?!?!?!
Saturday, 28 November 2009
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
My standard rant on Katie Price/Jordan/whatever the hell you want to call her.
Right. Katie Price. Straight to the point: why the HELL is she famous?
Possible Reason Number One: Yes, she has big boobs, but so does my Great Auntie Mildred, and she isn't plastered all over the front cover of (admittedly tacky) OK! magazine on a semi-permanent basis!
Possible Reason Number Two: She's pretty. Excuse me, have you SEEN her face!! The parts that aren't plastic are usually either covered in make-up or stretched so tightly across her poor, abused skull that any semblance of genuine human features are completely unreachable.
Possible Reason Number Three: She's intelligent. *snort*
Possible Reason Number Four: She can sing. Youtube it. Just Youtube it.
Possible Reason Number Five:.................okay, I'm stuck.
You see, the part that really gets to me is this. She isn't passionate about any of her so-called talents, because she's only using them as money-making schemes to fuel her borderline obsession with plastic surgery, boozing and partying. In particular; writing. She has either two or three autobiographies out (I can't tell you which because I refuse to type her name into Google), which is pointless for anyone under the age of forty because they just haven't had enough life to be genuinely interesting -- there's no ending to their story! And then, the novels. Well, those pathetic piles of bog-roll standard, tree-killing, wastes of paper that are apparently now regarded as genuine literary material by the British public.
I'm sorry, but that woman can't SPEAK properly, so how the hell are we supposed to believe that she churned out two freaking novels in four years! Now I have actually read the first two pages of each book (the imaginatively named Angel and Sapphire), and let me tell you -- they are utter crap. I mean, I have read my fair share of crappy books but these were in a whole new league -- and that's after some poor ghost-writer (whose name will never be known) was paid a pittance to whack the thing together as quickly as possible.
The thing is, had Jordan not already been 'famous', she would never have bothered even trying to write a book because a) she couldn't and b) she just wouldn't want to. And even if she had, publishing houses would have laughed in her face if she'd sent that piece of garbage in. And now those books are bestsellers. Because she has big boobs.
I rest my case.
Possible Reason Number One: Yes, she has big boobs, but so does my Great Auntie Mildred, and she isn't plastered all over the front cover of (admittedly tacky) OK! magazine on a semi-permanent basis!
Possible Reason Number Two: She's pretty. Excuse me, have you SEEN her face!! The parts that aren't plastic are usually either covered in make-up or stretched so tightly across her poor, abused skull that any semblance of genuine human features are completely unreachable.
Possible Reason Number Three: She's intelligent. *snort*
Possible Reason Number Four: She can sing. Youtube it. Just Youtube it.
Possible Reason Number Five:.................okay, I'm stuck.
You see, the part that really gets to me is this. She isn't passionate about any of her so-called talents, because she's only using them as money-making schemes to fuel her borderline obsession with plastic surgery, boozing and partying. In particular; writing. She has either two or three autobiographies out (I can't tell you which because I refuse to type her name into Google), which is pointless for anyone under the age of forty because they just haven't had enough life to be genuinely interesting -- there's no ending to their story! And then, the novels. Well, those pathetic piles of bog-roll standard, tree-killing, wastes of paper that are apparently now regarded as genuine literary material by the British public.
I'm sorry, but that woman can't SPEAK properly, so how the hell are we supposed to believe that she churned out two freaking novels in four years! Now I have actually read the first two pages of each book (the imaginatively named Angel and Sapphire), and let me tell you -- they are utter crap. I mean, I have read my fair share of crappy books but these were in a whole new league -- and that's after some poor ghost-writer (whose name will never be known) was paid a pittance to whack the thing together as quickly as possible.
The thing is, had Jordan not already been 'famous', she would never have bothered even trying to write a book because a) she couldn't and b) she just wouldn't want to. And even if she had, publishing houses would have laughed in her face if she'd sent that piece of garbage in. And now those books are bestsellers. Because she has big boobs.
I rest my case.
Sunday, 8 November 2009
Study sessions with friends - why do we even bother?
Today I spent a (thoroughly enjoyable) 6 hours of my life with my friend Amy, a fellow History AS student who also has absolutely no idea what goes on during the 5 hours a week we spend sitting in history lessons. And today we organised a 'study session' to help each other out with the grippingly titled 'How important were the ideas of the Humanists in weakening the authority of the Catholic Church in the years before the Reformation?' essay which, apart from having a number of pointlessly capitalised words, sounded like the epitome of the 3 D's; difficult, dull and d'oh so pointless.
But despite our misgivings we pulled out our stupidly heavy books, spread them artistically on the table between us and bent, pen poised between our fingers, over the sheet of mockingly blank paper. Of the six or so hours we spent in that position, I think an hour or so was spent on actual work.
Granted, you may see this as a failure, but as far as I am concerned, I spent 6 hours of my Sunday sitting at a table with a fellow history student, several immensely educational/tedious books opened between us and a pen in my hand. Legitimate? I think so.
In any case, this blog must here be cut short because, unsurprisingly, I have an essay to write.
But despite our misgivings we pulled out our stupidly heavy books, spread them artistically on the table between us and bent, pen poised between our fingers, over the sheet of mockingly blank paper. Of the six or so hours we spent in that position, I think an hour or so was spent on actual work.
Granted, you may see this as a failure, but as far as I am concerned, I spent 6 hours of my Sunday sitting at a table with a fellow history student, several immensely educational/tedious books opened between us and a pen in my hand. Legitimate? I think so.
In any case, this blog must here be cut short because, unsurprisingly, I have an essay to write.
Tuesday, 3 November 2009
I wear hoodies. Do I want to knife you? No. It is raining.
This post is going to be uncharacteristically short because I am very tired, my bed is calling and if I don't fall asleep soon then I might actually do some homework (plus I made seven typos in the first five words of this sentence. Bad sign).
Essentially, I was walking down to the corner shop this afternoon, admittedly wearing no makeup, looking knackered and wearing a very baggy hoodie. But I do not think that this was quite scary enough for the woman walking up the road towards me to look up, blanch and hastily cross the road, only to cross back after I had walked past. I had half a mind to walk up to the presumptive bint and ask her what he problem was, but felt that this wouldn't be helping my case much.
And my case is this: -
1. Yes, I wear hoodies. Why? Well, because actually it was raining quite hard, and since umbrellas seem to be allergic to me, I had no other means of keeping dry.
2. Yes, I looked rough, but I wasn't feeling my best and was being forced to nip down to the shop to buy bread.
3. Yes, I am a teenager. No, not a criminal, chav or hooligan. Teenager. There is a difference. Learn it.
Now please, adults, stop stereotyping us. I don't assume you're a boring, lifeless twerp because you're wearing a suit, do I? So please don't assume that because I'm wearing a hoodie, I'm a delinquent. Cheers muchly.
Essentially, I was walking down to the corner shop this afternoon, admittedly wearing no makeup, looking knackered and wearing a very baggy hoodie. But I do not think that this was quite scary enough for the woman walking up the road towards me to look up, blanch and hastily cross the road, only to cross back after I had walked past. I had half a mind to walk up to the presumptive bint and ask her what he problem was, but felt that this wouldn't be helping my case much.
And my case is this: -
1. Yes, I wear hoodies. Why? Well, because actually it was raining quite hard, and since umbrellas seem to be allergic to me, I had no other means of keeping dry.
2. Yes, I looked rough, but I wasn't feeling my best and was being forced to nip down to the shop to buy bread.
3. Yes, I am a teenager. No, not a criminal, chav or hooligan. Teenager. There is a difference. Learn it.
Now please, adults, stop stereotyping us. I don't assume you're a boring, lifeless twerp because you're wearing a suit, do I? So please don't assume that because I'm wearing a hoodie, I'm a delinquent. Cheers muchly.
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