Days till next exam: 5
Readiness for next exam: 60%
Days till final exam: 25
Days till Bryn's final exam: 1
Likelihood of Zed having to kill the more fortunate Bryn: 99.9%
Days till expected death of Zed due to exams: 3

The psychology experiment I took part in today was well exciting! I had to listen to bleeps and look at lines of various lengths and say which were longer than others. Woo!

Oh, something interesting that happened on Montag nachhhhhhht that I forgot to mention: when Ibid and I were on our way to The Beercart Arms, a chav who looked about fifteen stopped us in the street and asked us if we wanted to buy some weed. In spite of rumours about student towns being built with dope, this is the first time I've been asked this, and the circumstances are highly bizarre.


Friday 3 May 2002

One of my raffle winnings was a sampler of Kid Rock's new album. I've never knowingly listened to the guy before (except "American Bad Ass" which gets played everywhere), so I listened and-

"I make punk rock
And I mix it with the hip hop
I get you higher than a tree top
You wanna roll with the kid rock
I make southern rock
And I mix it with the hip hop
I got money like fort knox
I'll forever be the kid rock
Forever"

Ooh, how profound and enlightening! The rest of the lyrics aren't much of an improvement, or the other songs. Could anyone more egotistical? Even Robbie Williams isn't this bad. (Speaking of which, rather than revising, I spent an excessive amount of yesterday arguing with Bryn via e-mail about who the most talented member of Take That was.) Or Eminem - at least "Stan" was a story about the perils of hero-worship, not just "I'm so great and you love me".

Er, yes. This post was going to have a point to it, but I can't remember what it was now. Nevermind!

This evening, I went to a scriptwriting meeting, scriptwriting being a new society. Only five people, including the bloke running it, were there, and no one had had time to write anything for it. It was quite good fun, though. Our assignment for the next week: to write a scene set in a back street in central Lancashire (suggested by girl obsessed with coal mines), featuring an elderly widow and a companion (suggested by Ibid, obsessed with old women), a banana peel (suggested by bloke running it - it got booed for cheesiness) or a calculator (suggested by me; everyone else there was an arts or social science student, so I had to do something for the scientific subjects), with the theme of yesterday (suggested by bloke who writes clichéd poetry). Weirdly enough, I've got quite a good idea.

A couple of quotes from the meeting:

(On why we joined this society.)
Bloke: I'm looking for criticism.
Zed: You suck!

Ibid: I'm the only non-northern female here.
Girl-obsessed-with-coal-mines, to bloke: You're not northern . . .


Tuesday 7 May 2002

Occasionally on Livejournal surveys, you get asked the question, "In the last twenty four hours, did you meet anyone new?" Dude, in the last twenty four hours, I met more new people than I've met in the rest of my life!

On Friday night, I decided to search for other livejournal users living in Canterbury. There weren't many I wasn't already familiar with, but I came across the abortive journal of Gee (short for Gordon - heech! I'm not the only person in Canterbury with a phonetic initial as a nickname!), who I met at The Pit and the Christchurch thingammywotsit t'other night, and that of someone who went to the Beercart Arms all the time! So I left a comment, and we arranged to meet each other there on Montag.

The weekend was mostly spent revising and hangin' wiv ma homies (by which I mean they who I share a house with) although I talked to Twi on Saturday night from 11pm to 4.30am (whoops!)

On Monday, I set about revising for today's exam. I even went to the dreaded library to spend a fruitless trying to find the answers to past exam questions. Then, just before three, I got a phone call from Bryn.

He'd been away, fighting, and wasn't supposed to be getting home until 11pm that night. However! On Saturday, his first day of battle, he got hit on the finger with a sword, probably due to being out of practice and using an unfamiliar weapon. He managed to kill the sword's owner, but the agony quickly became unbearable. On Sunday, he returned to Sittingbourne in defeat, where he spent the night, and now he was back on campus. A very annoying occurrence, all in all, since he'd been looking forward to a post-exam ship-burning, and it's a bit of a pathetic injury. A bone breakage or scar would have been interesting, something to talk about, but although his finger is currently all swollen up, but it'll return to normal tomorrow, probably. I expect he received more "What happened to your face?" comments on Friday (the answer being, "I shaved really badly") than he'll get of the "What happened to your finger?" nature.

Since I'd done more or less all the revision I wanted to (today's was the easiest exam I'll have), I went round to see him. He'd brought the video of "Neverending Story" along from home, so we watched it. When I watched it for the first time, I was six and it scared the beep out of me. Watching it again, I'm not really sure why, although knowing how it ended probably made a difference. The only scary thing this time was the luck dragon. Just its appearance - I'm always a lot more fearful of white things than black things - and the whole idea of flying 9891 miles to The Southern Oracle. Well, the death of Artex (a name, we decided, sounded like some sort of ceiling plaster) was fairly nasty, but all I could think was, "Who on earth rides a white horse through a muddy swamp?" (Soppygit's suggestion: it's a Persil advert! Then we both got the image of a horse in a washing machine . . . )

After that, I met Soppygit, so we could meet three more potential housemates, since Her What Looked Round On Friday decided she didn't want the house. We had to make two trips there: I am getting thoroughly sick of that journey, although it only takes about five minutes and I don't even live there yet. They all said they'd be in touch soon, as to whether they wanted it or not, but thus far, no word. Am starting to get paranoid: we've now offered it to nine people, and still no one wants it. It's about as close to campus as you can get; are we the off-putting factor? Oh well, we're meeting lots of people this way. As we were setting off home, we ran into and spoke to the bloke we met up with on Thursday and his girlfriend.

I did a bit of last minute revision, then set off for The Beercart Arms, totally unconcerned that I had an exam at 9.30 today. Bryn didn't accompany me, since he'd want to mosh, but couldn't risk hurting his finger any more. This proved really annoying, because people kept asking me, "Where's Bryn?" these days. Huh! Was my presence not good enough for them? Ibid stayed at home, to watch the snooker final, since she loves snooker and hates Stephen Hendry. And Soppygit didn't come either, having work to do, and lacking much fondness for most of the music.

However! I did meet up with Nisha, who, as I'd suspected, was The Girl Who I Keep Seeing There And Meaning To Talk To But Never Got The Chance. Funchie! She was, as promised, wearing snakes and ladders tights, which were mint! They were covered in cheeky snakes and messages that got dodgier, reading upwards. Talked to her and her Christchurch-going friends quite a bit. Also spoke to a girl called . . . Leanna, I think, who I'd only said a couple of sentences to in the past, who introduced me to her friends. And introduced myself to this girl who's in one of my Maths classes, who's been meaning to talk to me for ages. Hurray!

The music wasn't terribly recognisable for the most part, but, on my request, the DJ did play "Bodies" by Drowning Pool, which had been stuck in my head for the last three days, rendering thinking of things to say to the potential housemates difficult. Unfortunately, as soon as I left, it got stuck in my head again! I'm going to have to buy the album very soon, I fear.

The last song was "Blackhole Sun" by Soundgarden, which is far too slow to dance to, so me and A Man Called Martin did the lighter-waving-without-lighters dance to it, which proved very sore on ye olde armes.


Thursday 9 May 2002

Today I took the Which Serial Killer Are You? quiz and I'm Charles Manson. Now me and Brian Warner share one surname and nearly share another. Heech!


Friday 10 May 2002

Bryn is Away Visiting Friends, meaning that this is the first time I've been without him during term time for more than three and a half days. And it's pants! I even started rewriting "How Soon Is Now?" as I lay awake last night so the chorus went, "I am horny and I need to be ****ed / Just like my revision plan is!"


Monday 13 May 2002

Days until next exam: 2
Days until final exam: 14
People at top of hit list: Ibid and Soppygit, because they've beeped off to France for the day.
Days until I see Bryn again: 0.

On my way up to campus today, I encountered a bunch of chavs on their way down. "HIPPAY!" they yelled at me.

Hippie? Now that's a new one! But why? I'd understand if I'd been wearing my tie-dyed shirt, but I was wearing my New Rocks, a black crushed velvet skirt, a trench coat, a spikey dog collar and a Cure shirt! I was just asking to be yelled "Goth!" at: since when does that get-up constitute hippieness? Have all the labels played musical chairs without my noticing?

Also today, I looked at my astro.com profile. Although I don't believe any of this astrology booers, it was pretty accurate: it went on about creativity a lot and was spot on with its analysis of my sensitivity. Then I found the line:

"This one is not very favorable for studying math and science, unless you have an unusual amount of mental discipline."

*That's* why my revision's taking so much bleeping time! &%^#! Should have stuck with Film Studies: The Sleeve had a grand total of two exams. However, I'll take the fact that every Maths grade I've received in my life been ridiculously high (I got 102% for one of my coursework marks this year) as a good sign.


Friday 17 May 2002

Went into Canterbury with the housemates yesterday afternoon to celebrate Ibid's departure. Er, to give her a good seeing off. Yes, that's "seeing off" not ""seeing to"". Bought fuuuuuudge! (Treat to self, in this time of agonyyyy!) And went to the cathedral for the first time in my life! (I've attempted to go there repetitively, but every time, it went wrong.) It was very big, but by no means the most impressive cathedral I've seen. (My parents find one to drag me to, wherever we go on holiday.) I think Kirkthorpe On The Spleen's monochrome stained glass windows depicting office equipment would have been better than some of the ones there. However, in the gift shop there were some marvellously tacky pens containing knights that jousted and ran away when you turned the pen one way up then the other. What that has to do with Canterbury cathedral, I knoweth not.


Saturday 18 May 2002

Bryn has gone to Ramsgate for the day.

"Rammstein" by Rammstein, minus an umlaut.

Rammstein / ein Mensch brennt
Rammstein / fleischgeruch in der Luft
Rammstein / ein Kind stirbt
Rammstein / die Sonne scheint

Rammstein / ein Flammenmeer
Rammstein / Blut gerinnt auf dem Asphalt
Rammstein / Mutter schreien
Rammstein / die Sonne scheint

Rammstein / ein Massengrab
Rammstein / kein Entrinnen
Rammstein / kein Vogel singt mehr
Rammstein / die Sonne scheint

Rammstein!

Now:

"Ramsgate" by Zed Leppelin. Not the most poetic thing I've ever written, but frankly, I'm quite amazed I managed to think of twelve lines to write about the place! (Yes, I referred to my encyclopaedia.)

Ramsgate / It's in Kent.
Ramsgate / Augustine once went there.
Ramsgate / On the coast.
Ramsgate / It's pretty shite.

Ramsgate / A market town.
Ramsgate / Fishing and yachting centre.
Ramsgate / Teenage mothers.
Ramsgate / It's pretty shite.

Ramsgate / It's a resort.
Ramsgate / It's a Cinque Port.
Ramsgate / There is nothing there.
Ramsgate / Yes, it's pretty shite.

Ramsgate!

Not that I have anything against Ramsgate or anything. Oh no, not I! If I was going to insult part of Kent I would insult Sheppey. But I can't think of any songs that can easily be modified so they concern Sheppey and in any case, it's not worthy of my parodying skillz.

I have done some revision today, honest!


Monday 20 May 2002

A while ago, I sent the university literary magazine one of my poems, and, in case they didn't like that, I gave them my website address so they could see if they liked something else on there better. But in thirty two pages, I found none of my work. What I did find, on the back cover, was the following poem:

Mr. Leap

Mr. Leap is a Gorilla.
He sits in a tree all day.
Eating bananas.
Hooray for Mr. Leap.

Mr. Leap is a Gorilla.
He lives in a zoo.
Just like me and you.
Hooray for Mr. Leap.

Mr. Leap is a Gorilla.
Imprisoned in a cage.
Like this page.
Hooray for Mr. Leap.

Mr. Leap is a Gorilla.
Three cheers for Mr. Leap.

Um. What? "Imprisoned in a cage / Like this page." I don't see any forced rhymes, oh no! Please someone tell me my writing's better than this?

Next year I think I'll submit some 2 Unlimited lyrics.


Wednesday 29 May 2002

One of the stranger experiences one can have: being at a party attended by only about fifteen people, but one of them being one of one's lecturers, and seeing him with a joint in his hand. Admittedly, he wasn't smoking the joint, but passing it onto someone else, but still.

The last few days have rendered me fit as a . . . you know, I never realised fiddles did that much exercise. People who play them get a lot of arm exercise, I guess, but violins themselves? I suppose heat is generated by the strings, when played, but what about those belonging to people who only practice the night before their next lesson? Eh?

Anyway. On Montaaaag naaaaachhhhhht, after ze Beercart Arms (where about a zillion people told me they wanted to own the purple version of my PVC dress), I went round to Nisha's house (on the other side of Canterbury to mine) avec various other Christchurch people, since:

1. I'd just had my last exam and needed to do something a bit different.
2. Bryn was at his parents' house, since he had to take the rest of his stoof home. He was not best pleased, since he missed what might well be the last Fright Night he'll get to go to (The Beercart Arms is changing management soon - nooooo!) So I needed to seek alternative company for my slumbering - in the most innocent way, naturally.

I then spent the night:
1. Lying on the floor in total darkness and total silence. Not just when I was sleeping, but because an evil girl of duuuuume (who'd earlier thrown a hoodie in my face, hit on everyone in sight, and told Sarah's boyfriend "You can do better than that") was at the door, wanting in if there was a party going on.
2. Watching LaBrynth (as I like to call it) and debating the pros and cons of David Bowie's hair and trousers. Not that I think there's anything to debate.
3. Having incredibly dodgy conversations and eating chocolate cake - which weren't entirely unrelated activites.
4. Trying to get Nisha to show us her nipple piercing. Well, honestly, if you're going to pierce your nipple and tell everyone about it, what do you expect?
5. Getting my revenge, if on the wrong people. See, whenever there's a rock soc pubcrawl, when we're walking back, there's always at least two people present who are / were Warhammer players who bore everyone else to death by talking about it. That night, it transpired that Gee was one of these people, and I got to bore everyone else to death talking to him about it. Wahey!

I got about five hours sleep, and sat around listening to death metal all morning because 1) I was tired and 2) I hadn't a clue where I was, since I have geographical dyslexia. I was finally shown the way home just before one.

Now usually Bryn does not wake up, much less do anything, before midday. But that morning, he'd risen at seven thirty, and got his Mummy to take him to the station before work.

And usually Bryn is not in the slightest bit nice. But that day, he'd planned to take me to the Roman museum and "Attack Of The Clones". (No, I still hadn't seen it. It came out as my exams reached their thickest.)

And where was I? Vanished, without phone. When he reached my house, Soppygit told him where I was, but apparently phoned me twelve times before then. Twelve times! Now that's what I call obsessive! I've never called him more than three times without answer, even when there was a good chance he was dead (him narrowly avoiding a certain train crash and all). I suppose it did look vaguely dodgy, but please. If I was going to cheat on him, which I'm not, I'd do it in a way that he wouldn't suspect anything - i.e. be back before he was. Anyway, he talked to Soppygit for an hour and a half, but I still hadn't turned up, so he went to campus, and just as he reached his room, I called. Typical.

But after twenty five minutes at home, back into Canterbury we traipsed and saw "Star Wars". After that, we'd been invited to a barbecue. Naturally, 1) it was chucking it down and 2) we didn't know where it was. But we found it, and the weather cleared up, but it was still on the pants side (of The Force). Don't know why, because there were people there who we usually have a great time with, but nein. I did, however, coincidentally meet a bloke off the Canterbury Rocks mailing list whose identity I was clueless about, which was nice.

So we left early, I sorted out my dwarf army and Bryn downloaded Fruityloops and annoyed me to death by "scratching" (you click on a picture of a record) a wav of me singing "I Could Be Happy With You" in an off-key helium voice.

This morning, Bryn and I went to campus, since he had his second Viva (spoken examination thingy) and I wanted to read my friends page (can't afford to go online from home during the day). Since he had a class photo a few hours later, the plan was that after his Viva, we'd go to his room and make chain mail. Five minutes after we parted company, he phoned me saying, "I've left my keys at your house." So back home I traipsed, and then back to campus. I got into Eliot College just as another downpour started. But by the time Bryn's Viva finished, I'd hardly finished reading my e-mail, much less started on my hundred-and-twenty-entry strong friends page.

We made chainmail for a couple of hours. Then I had to go into town to get miniatures (for a battle tonight) and hair dye (can't go to goth festival with sun-bleached patches) and stoof. It was puring it down. Luckily, I had to stop at my house on the way, and tricked by my being indoors, it eased off. Nevertheless, more walking than I strictly needed.

And where am I going as soon as Bryn gets back? (There was a staff-student softball game after the photo, but I wouldn't have thought it would take three and a half hours.) Town, for various rock types are meeting in the Hobgoblin (pub o rock) before the UKC holidays commence. Eek!


Thursday 30 May 2002

If I hear the words, "Zed! I'm a scientist!" one more time . . .

Bryn's got a degree. Third class honours. Which is what I'd expected and what he'd hoped for, so happiness abounds.

In other news:

1) After two years of being nothing, nothing in particular, I am now secretary of the rock society and soon to be treasurer of the athletics society. I know what you're thinking: athletics? Aren't you the one that came last in all three of the events you took part in on the same sports day? But Soppygit's started it up and needs some to treasure it dearly. Besides, it's a cheaper option than joining the gym, bearing in mind it's £40 a year, and the number of times I've been there I can count on my fingers.

2) The craziness of Rutherford College is even more serious than I'd previously believed. I was trying to find a corridor on the second floor of the north wing. To get there, I would have thought I'd have to go to the north wing, then utilise staircases. But there were no staircases there. So I tried the east wing and the west wing, but couldn't make my way to the corridor of my desires from there either. So I gave up, and set off into the south wing, to use the chocolate machines there. Hang on - could I possibly get to the north wing from there? After walking along several million pink utility corridors, wahey, the corridor I wanted! Obvious, though? Definitely not!