Fame At Last?

Hello dear reader(s), and welcome back! I just have one thing for you today, although I'm hoping to have several posts out in the near future. Today I am pondering the idea that I am now famous :)

Well, sort of.

Earlier this academic year, i.e. before Christmas, I enrolled on a module called "Fremdsprachen; Lernen und Lehren" (Teaching and Learning Foreign Languages for those who don't speak German). The aims of this module were to teach us about theories of language acquisition, to explore second language development at various ages, and to essentially teach us how to teach. It was a great module, and I would highly recommend it to anyone who gets the chance to do it (so, German Studies students at Nottingham Uni.) Despite initial worries that it was just a module aimed at German learners to remind us that our only job prospect was teaching (yeah, right), it was actually very informative and interesting in itself.

The assessment for this class was an essay, but the formative assessment, carried out halfway through the module to ascertain how well we were coping with the content, was to create teaching materials for a Beginners' German first year class. We had the option, in groups, of either preparing a lecture and presenting it, or making a video. I worked with Jordan, and we made a video exploring the difficult pronunciations found in German, which just don't exist in English. Our video was, somehow, a resounding success. Sascha, who ran the module, absolutely loved it (far more than we did!) and this made us all very happy.

A few weeks ago Jordan and I received an email from Sascha, asking if he could use our video as part of a report on the module's success, with a link being put on the University's website. We of course said yes. You know, whatever makes you happy, Sascha.

From Helen

Oddly, this has ended with two people, so far, sending me links to my own video, telling me I'm famous. Well, two is hardly thousands, and I don't really need a link to the video - I'm in it! But it's nice to be recognised. By my housemates.

Anyway, here's the link to the original blog, if you fancy a read. The video link is on there:
http://blogs.nottingham.ac.uk/clas/2015/05/21/flipped-roles-german-students-as-teachers/

Much love xx

Sorry It's Been So Long

Hey guys, sorry it's been such a long time since my last post, I've had exams and goodness knows what else.
If anyone out there in Internetland is still reading this, here is a quick rundown of the last few months:

- Exams. I had four, I think. They were so long ago I've forgotten. For these, I had some short questions (what the history students call) "gobbets";  reciting chunks of information on automatic recall, some grammar questions and several essays and overall I was happy with the way they went.
- End of term preparations and celebrations, including the URN Boat Party, as well as various other bits. Possibly my favourite part of the last few months, as this included visits from my Grandad and his friend Jean, and Matt, the aforementioned Boat Party and several meals out and meeting ups with various people.
- Results. Happily, I passed my first year at uni with a good enough average for me not to be disappointed in myself. Thankfully, this means I'll be back in September in fabulous Nottingham!
- New House. We moved into our new student digs for next year at the beginning of July. As expected, some work needs to be done to make it home, but a trip to Lidl went some way to improving things...
- Phatpocket. Once again I return to work under the "watchful" (absent) eye of Scott, and am merrily reunited with my friends and colleagues, including the elusive Dannii, who returns for another summer. And Matt, of course. He's there too.

So my main pondering for this post, given the changes that have occurred since the last one, and the fact that I'm sitting in the departure lounge of Heathrow, is travel. It's strange how we often describe life as a journey, but so many of us spend the majority of it in one place. Whilst it is not the most ecologically friendly thing to do, I fully believe that people become fuller and more well rounded individuals through travelling and experiencing different cultures and societies. It really does change your perspective of things, even if only in a small way.

However, now that I'm going through what I'm sure I will consider one of the greatest transitions periods of my life (when I look back in years to come), I'm beginning to realise what people mean by "the journey of life". You may well spend your time on this planet all in one place, but that doesn't mean you don't travel incredibly far from what you have been.

Especially in a time when, as a young adult (and I don't mean that in the patronising way parents and teachers always use it, I mean it in its most literal sense) things such as bill paying and part-time employment have entered my sphere of consciousness. It's easy to forget that things some people take for granted, such as setting up utilities accounts, travelling by means other than one's own feet or parent taxi, and deciding whether or not our house actually needs a TV licence under the current confusing guidelines, especially if you're old enough to have been doing those things for ten, twenty, or even thirty years. When you step onto that path, it really is a new and confusing world, and probably one of the biggest ways in which we travel as we mature in the "journey" of life.

Thanks for listening to my semi-philosophical, semi-confused-and-talking-to-myself ramble. Hopefully it won't be as long until the next post. I wonder if anyone is still reading this anyway?

If It's Twenty Four Hour Silence...

So Ancaster Hall is meant to have a twenty four hour silence policy, to allow students to study for their impending exams. However, although I am aware that I would be in serious trouble if I did so much as turn my music up louder than absolutely necessary, or watched TV online without headphones, I am also aware that there are several things stopping the silence. So my ponderance today is:
If Ancaster Hall is meant to be silent twenty four hours a day, then why...:

• ... Do large, very loud lorries drive past my room periodically between the times of 06:00 and at least 15:30?
• ... Is the idiot in the room below me allowed to play his ridiculously loud dubstep/club music so that I can hear it through my floor, when I can't even have my radio loud enough to be able to hear it in my own bathroom?
• ... Have the girls upstairs been throwing things out of their window for no apparent reason and then spending half an hour yelling at each other from the ground to the second floor trying to get it out of the spiky bushes that they know are incredibly spiky (designed to prevent intruders)?
• ... Have the aforementioned girls got very cross with me when I shouted out the window telling them to be quiet as it's meant to be silent?
• ... Are the boys outside allowed to stand almost directly outside my room and play (very loud) football? 
• ..., if all the above are true, am I not allowed to watch a film with my friends?

Daffodils (sort of)

Hello again reader(s)!! I know, is it even possible that I've done more than two updates since re-beginning to write my blog (again)? And yes indeed, it is!!! This post is about probably one of the best decisions I've made during my time at university, excluding the choice I made to be friends with the lovely people I am friends with. I've bought some narcissus. They were sold to me as daffodils, but I'm not silly; they're narcissus. The currently sit in the pot I bought them in at the corner of my desk, although I'm hoping to get a bigger pot and an actual drip tray (rather than a cereal bowl.) So, I've been pondering them, basically.

Firstly, I've been surprised at how quickly the little flowers have grown. I bought them last week, probably on Wednesday, I think, and several of them have already flowered, with many more probably flowering in the next few days. The first one flowered on this Thursday and I actually watched it open throughout the day. Now five are properly open and one is opening today. Let me show you:

Thursday evening

Thursday lunchtime

Thursday afternoon

Saturday afternoon

Friday morning

Friday evening

 So you see how quick the development of these pictures has occurred... Even as I'm writing this, another bud has started to bloom! I'm now on six!

My other ponderance is how much better they make my room. Apart from a dodgy smell from the soil-y stuff when I water the base, which is easily ignored, they are very attractive and definitely make the room a little happier. At the same time, I think having them around in the room also makes it feel more like home. It's something I can look after and it adds another element of life to the room.

Finally, I feel I should explain the caption on the fifth picture. Since I arrived at university I have come to the realisation that a lot of my friends... How can I put this so that it encompasses everything?... I have a lot of friends who bat for the Owen's team, who like to exfoliate and whose favourite film is Moulin Rouge. Is this getting the point across at all? Basically, I've been nicknamed the Fairy Gaymother because I appear to attract a certain type of person as my friend. Apparently I also have this effect on flowers...

House Hunting

It's now come to that time in my life where I've had to start (and indeed conclude) a hunt for my first privately-rented property (how scary!) So, this led to me pondering the housing market and, well, just everything really.

For anyone who's interested, I am sharing as part of a group of five girls who will all be living in a two-storey house in Beeston; near the university. The property has five bedrooms, three bathroom-esque rooms (only one actually has a bath in it, the others have showers), one lounge, one dining room, one kitchen, a scrubby garden with a "bald patch" (Helen) and a "Bedroom", in which the bedroom furniture doesn't even fit. Needless to say, this will be used as an occasional overnight room for people staying (willingly or because they're unable to use their own legs...) over and (probably) a storage room.

Basically, this whole process has made me feel very grown up; primarily because I have been doing most of the dealings with the estate agents (as the one who was willing to make the phone calls on Monday) and this gives me a terrifying level of responsibility, but also because I now realise that next year I will be responsible for myself; all the payments of bills and rent will be down to me (probably not financially, but I will be in charge of organising it) and if I mess up, it will be my own fault, with no way to blame anyone else.

That's scary.

In addition, I have decided I would be a terrible estate agent. I would feel incredibly guilty for the amount of... not quite lying, but... 'smoothing over' I would need to do to sell certain properties. Did you know there's no patron saint of estate agents*? Somehow it doesn't really surprise me. (At a stretch you could say it was St Lucy, patron saint of salespeople, but I'm not sure that's the entire of the estate agent's job.)

To be honest, my main concern for next year is getting on with my housemates, who are all lovely girls. This may seem a silly thing to say, if they're all lovely girls, why would that be a concern?
Basically, because they're so lovely I'm worried that I will be the one who will annoy everyone to the point where we have an argument and they are no longer friends with me. Apparently there's meant to be someone like that in every house. I really hope we're the exception...

If it doesn't work out, I could always live in a yurt.

Emmatt update: I realised I didn't do one of these last time, so in case anyone's interested, I thought I'd let you know. Matt and I sent a lot of time together over the Christmas holidays, even though we both had a lot to do. We're both very happy that we've now (more or less) reached five months together and are making plans to see each other in a few weeks, just after my Birthday. I also hope during this time to introduce him to some of my other friends (the girls I'm living with, plus other people in my course), although he doesn't know this yet. Sorry Matt.

*P.S. Father mine, the patron saint of Bankers is St Matthew

Ding Dong Merrily On A Budget

I know, I know, I haven't updated this blog for over two months now and I'm very, very sorry. Therefore, like a parent who has missed their child's school play, I am now going to ravish you with extra attention and new and more interesting posts to make up for it. Hopefully. I have actually been hoping to write this particular post for about six or seven weeks now, so it is a bit late (and out of season), but I hope you'll excuse that. Anyway, on with the show!

As you can see, today's post is called "Ding dong merrily on a budget" and, basically, the idea behind this has sprung from my desperate need, as a student, to decorate my room for Christmas on an incredibly minimal amount of money. I set this limit for myself at no more than £10 and managed to come in below this amount anyway. So, my first shopping trip took me to (where else?) Tesco; where I spent approximately a fiver(?) on decorations, consisting of:

• Tinsel, 2 (two) - gold, total of 4m
• Stocking, 1 (one) - red and white felt
• Battery powered Christmas lights, 1 (one) string - star-shaped, purple and pink alternating

I was quite happy with the way my looked at this point; I may even have a photo...

Somewhere.

For now, allow me to continue.

This was in the last week or so of November (I thought it best to get in early, although I am usually against this, as I was leaving Uni on 13th December, so wanted the full Christmas season), however, by the beginning of December my friends and I had decided that we wanted to have a Christmas party and, seeing as how my room was the tidiest/I'd done the least hosting all term/I was most open to decoration, my room became the designated party room. This, of course, required more decorations to be purchased. 

With now only £5 left in the budget and most of a room to make festive, we thought we'd have our work cut out (does anyone else think I'm beginning to sound like one of those stupid house makeover programmes?) Anyway, we decided to start thinking outside the box; the regular person, socially acceptable box...

So we spent about £3.50 on wrapping paper and we (Declan and Elena) wrapped the walls of my room.

Yes. That happened. 

See photo if you don't believe me.

Please ignore these people. They're just actors posing as my friends.

So, my plan with this post was to encourage people to get involved in the "Ding dong..." idea wot I came up wiv, but obviously it's a bit late for that. So, please consider it for next (this) year (especially those of you on tight budgets) as a cool Christmassy thing to do.

Hopefully I'll have another post soon. Much love xx

(P.S. Tom, I haven't forgotten about your letter. I have it and am in the process of writing back, but I haven't yet had the chance to send it - sorry!!!)

Oooh, Look! A Blog Post!

So, I'm terribly sorry that there has been about a month’s gap between this post and the last but, seeing as how nobody even reads this, I guess it doesn't really matter anyway. I am currently on a train. This had made me ponder trains.

I don’t like the fact that there isn't somewhere on trains that you can keep your bag without losing sight of it; even when it’s in the overhead luggage rack you can’t really see it. Plus, you can’t put large bags there anyway, so it’s not helpful if you've got a small suitcase, which I have. Fortunately, I have sat next to very understanding people on both the trains I've had to sit next to people on today, so it’s actually been OK. J

Now, this is a strange thing to say, but I was going to make a post about things I dislike about trains. Except that I was going to do it on Friday when I was having to rush between platforms to catch my connections. Today I've had a short wait at both Stevenage and Grantham on the way back to Uni, so I've not really got much to complain about; I haven’t even had to go up and down a lot of stairs to get to far away platforms as they've all been across the platform from each other.

So, apart from an apology (what else would you expect?) for not writing for so long, this post will be rather pointless. Thank you for bearing with me whilst I settled in to Uni life and (almost) got on top of my workload. Much love xx

Emmatt update: If anyone is bothered, Matt and I are still very happy sharing each other’s company and we spent a fair amount of time together whilst I was at home this weekend. I am still waiting for him to realise just quite how crazy I am, but (mercifully) that time has not yet come.

Making Friends

Hello dear friends! Today I am writing very briefly about one of the downsides of living in halls of residence (not that there are many!) because it's happening right now and I'm pondering it as a result.

The gentleman below me and I have only met once during my time here (and I'm not even entirely sure which one he was) and at that point, Declan, Beth and I were rolling around on the floor laughing like loons on loon tablets. However, I have learnt quite a lot about my downstairs neighbour from his taste in music.

At some point each day, usually when I am sitting in my room "studying" (i.e. Eating cheese and biscuits, painting my nails, blogging, arranging my stuff/timetable etc.) the gentleman downstairs will begin playing loud club dance music from the (rather impressive) speaker system he must have down there. I know that dance music is designed to have a very noticeable bass line and hence would be fairly audible at any volume, however, this particular music is being played so loudly that I am able to tell what the song is.

Think about that for a second. I, Emma, can identify the club music which is being played. Any other genre, you might sort of say "well, yes, but you know every piece of music ever released" but club dance music should make you think something's up. Firstly, I absolutely hate club dance music and know very little of it; the fact that I know some is merely a reflection of Freshers' Week and its effect, the fact that I can identify it shows how loud it must be. Secondly all club music sounds exactly the same when played quietly, for it to be identifiable, it must be quite loud....

So I have come up with a solution. Many of you will think it childish, but to you I say "Ner ner ner ner ner!!!" I have declared "Battle of the Awful Music", which means that every time his music is so loud that I can hear it, I turn up the music I'm listening to to drown him out (and hopefully educate him in what music should actually sound like.) So far today, Mr Underneath-Room has been subjected to "Wouldn't It Be Nice" by the Beach Boys, "Ticket To The Moon" by ELO and "I Wish It Could Be A Wombling Merry Christmas Every Day" (Fat Boy Furry Crucial Dub Groovy Acid Burrow Garage Mix) by Roy Wood and the Wombles, which he may well have actually enjoyed.

Grow up? NEVER!!!

My Meandering Brain

OK, this is hardly surprising for regular readers of my blog, but that last post seemed to go off at somewhat of a tangent. The post was meant to be about how everything is slowly sorting itself out in my life, not about how my life is complete now that I have a boyfriend and a job.

I'd like to take this opportunity to say that just because I am now receiving a slightly higher income than 0p per month this does not mean that my life is now perfect. Furthermore, I am not suggesting that I or anyone else needs a job to be happy. Some work can make you happy and part of what makes my job so enjoyable is the people there (hence the huge tangent.) All I meant was that it is one less thing for me to worry about now and therefore one less thing to write about.

Likewise the boyfriend situation. Miss MacNeill and Sophie R,  if you are reading this I am not saying that a significant other is important for making one feel happy, merely that it's one less thing that I can moan about to all and sundry.

My real point was meant to be that things are finally picking up in my life where they have previously been points for me to complain incessantly about and that this might, in the long run, hail the end of my wonderful (under appreciated) blog. Even my weird and wonderful Uni crisis has sorted itself out; I am now going to study German at Nottingham, not what I originally planned, but I think it's the right choice. As My Grandad and Dad often say, everything happens for a reason.

Anyway, as you can see, this post is more accurate and on topic than my last post. Why does this always happen? And so, dear readers, I must be going now as the Land of Nod awaits. Much love and that x

Exams (Yes, it's that time again...)

Dust off the revision guides and get out those massive (and incredibly cool now that hipsters are a thing)  reading glasses, it's revision time again! Yes, the time of year where we ponder the previously pondered is upon us. We all know what this means; it means that we should've all been relearning what we've already learnt before we've even learnt it since about February, because otherwise WE WILL ALL FAIL AND NOBODY WILL EVER LOVE US EVER AGAIN!!!!!

Just me? Oh, OK then :)

For myself and my peers, this year holds a much greater threat than any other previous year. As Nicole said in RS the other day: "Before, if we did badly, we could just resit. Our pride would be hurt, but that's about all. Now, if we do badly, we don't get into university and the rest of our lives are ruined." Ok, so I don't agree with the ruined lives bit, but this is effectively true. Whilst there are some universities (apparently St Andrews is one of these) which prefer to offer places to people who have already secured their grades and have gained a little life experience, the fact that one is required to retake some A Levels does not sit well with many places of study. Plus, as my Dad points out on every available occaison "taking a gap year and traveling the world is one less year in which you could be earning." Unless you work through your accidental gap year (yay), but then again, who would want to employ someone who doesn't even have A Levels (or at least good A Levels) in this day and age?

Grade inflation has a lot to answer for.

Plus, if you do get a job during your gap year, it can only really be part time because, of course, you have to revise for those fabulous exams again. And this time is even more serious because there's no way you'd be considered for anything if you had to redo your A Levels twice.

Or maybe none of this is really a possibility and I'm just panicking because at my school we're all expected to be able to recite Pi to several thousand digits by the end of year seven.

Sporadic Is A Fun Word

I apologise firstly for my sporadic writing-ness of this blog, I have (would you believe) a life outside of the Internet, which (unfortunately) must come first. So I thought I'd update my single, lonely reader on what's going on, which isn't much. So I'm pondering the future.

Basically, because I want to study Law (with German) next year people immediately assume that I want to be a lawyer, possibly in Germany. Which I don't. Not that I'm not considering living in Germany; that actually sounds like fun and I love it there, so it's a possibility. But being a lawyer is something I don't really want to do.

[MASSIVE SIDEBAR: I should explain at this point for people who may not entirely understand. 'Lawyer' is a collective term for 'barristers' (the people who stand up in court and wear the wigs) and 'solicitors' (who are the ones who do the civil cases, such as divorce and spend most of their time on paperwork.) 'Lawyer' is not actually a separate job, however, there is some crossover between the two jobs which count as lawyers: Barristers do obviously have to do some paperwork, and Solicitors can represent people in court if they are asked. But training for either job is almost ten years and neither position is something I would like to do particularly.]

Therefore I think it would be fairer if I left the limited lawyer jobs to the thousands of people who desperately want them.

This then begs the question "What do you want to do then, you weirdo?" And I have to say, to be honest, I don't really know. I would really like to do something with/in German, but I know I may not be able to without working for a Bank (something 18 years of second-hand experience has warned me against.) However, I'd quite like to work for the Government, maybe as an official translator or some such position, or maybe in international relations.

In all honesty, I'd love to be a writer. I love writing (usually screenplays or this blog) and I'd love to be able to spend more time doing it, but I know that writing isn't really a steady career and I wouldn't be able to support myself, let alone a family, on the money I would potentially earn.

So once again, I must live in the real world and not the perfect hypothetical world I've created for myself. I hate being sensible, it ruins everything. Advice?

Badger of Honour

So, today I was pondering what people must think of me when they see me and don't know me. I don't worry about people who don't know me and what they think, I was just pondering it because if you didn't know me, it must be quite confusing to see someone wearing a medal made from a badger.

For those of you who do know me, you'll know that normality isn't my strong point; I can wear a perfectly sensible outfit and think "gosh, how boring!" Usually that leads me to wear, y'know, bright blue tights or a fabulous hat. I am now also the proud owner of a reindeer onesie, which did have glow in the dark stars and things on it, but I think they fell off.

So anyway, today I was out at a University Visit Day and decided I should probably dress fairly sensibly, no pyjamas, or hats, or garish colours. I decided I had to be subtle and sensible. Then, at the last minute I thought that I should wear my Badger of Honour.

Let me explain. The Badger of Honour was something my friend Phoebe invented. We have no idea how or why, but it's an amazing idea! It's a small wooden badger attached to a black-and-white striped ribbon. They were given to each of the Explorer girls for Christmas but, as far as I know, I'm the only one who actually wears mine. I wear it when my outfit needs to be fairly sensible, but I can't be bothered to be boring. Which is not very often.

I really should wear it more.

I just realised that my fashion sense is oddly similar to Ella's....
Oh well!

A quick plug for you! If you like music jokes and making fun of people who like soulless mass-produced pop, you'll probably like http://www.musiciansare.com . It's a meme site for memes about music, but not just pop music; it is a mixture of pop and actual band stuff, so I'm not sure if it will appeal to you.

A Conundrum

Hello Beautiful People Of The Internet (and Becky)! I am here once again to tell you about the things I think about (or stuff I ponder). See what I did there?
Clever, huh?
Well, today I have a dilemma and I am not sure what to do. But I feel I have bugged my friends too much recently. So I have decided to bug the Internet for a change. Sorry :)

I had a letter from a certain University last Friday, telling me that I have been pooled by the college I applied for; that means they're still considering my application, but that my first choice college probably can't fit me in (Not very good at making that anonymous...) This is both good and bad news. It's good, because it means they want me, it's bad because they don't want me enough to offer me a place straight away. Anyway, that's not the problem. The thing is, I haven't heard back from them yet, and every day that I don't hear is another day less likely it will be a positive response. But that's not the problem either.

You see, as much as I'd really love to go to this University (it's definitely my first choice) there are several other universities which I have applied for and would be perfectly happy at, one of which (Nottingham) has offered me a conditional place. But that's where the problem lies: As much as I love Nottingham - the university is beautiful and their course (Law with German and German Law) sounds fantastic, I just fell in love with the whole package - there's one thing that's stopping me from wanting to accept the offer. If I go to Nottingham there's a very strong possibility I'll bump into a certain idiot who can't tell the difference between the words "yes" and "no".

At this point I understand that some people will be confused. Last year I was subject to the stupidity of one individual who could not tell the difference between an affirmative and negative response to what (I thought) was a very simple question. This led to quite a lot of upset on my part (obviously, because I am a girl). Recently, I asked for clarification of this misunderstanding and I was completely ignored. To be honest, this didn't bother me. The quickest way to forget everything good about someone is to be refused help when you ask politely for it. But you see how it could be awkward for me to go to Nottingham now; I think if I were to meet this person again, I might either be (accidentally) incredibly rude, or physically ill. Or punch them.

So, Internet, what do you think I should do? Is this something I should actually be worrying about?

Passing The Time Between Sleeping

Hey, sorry it's been so long - yet again - since I last posted (not that anyone reads this anyway, unless I put a link on Facebook). Anyway, I've been all over the place recently, doing all sorts of stuff for various motives. What I thought would be an easy way to ease myself back into this would be to briefly outline everything I've been pondering (well, everything relevant) and maybe revisit them at a later time if I feel the need.

SUBJECT: University Entry
REASON FOR PONDERING (RFP): Education
EXPAND? Basically, by October 15th, I have to have decided the next apart of my future. Hazzah(!) Anyway, it's a lot of stress, because I have no idea what to think/do and, even though I know what I want to study, I'm worried I won't get into the place(s) I want to get into. And filling out the UCAS form continues to be a pain (ask my Dad...)

SUBJECT: School
RFP: Education
EXPAND? Once again, I have my nose thoughtlessly shoved up against the grindstone of the everyday system. Once again, I am having to wake up at 7.15 (yes, I know that lots of people have to wake up a lot earlier than I do, but I'm really not a morning person) and get into school, but this time I am adorned with more responsibilities and even more work, most I which I asked for (obviously not the work).

SUBJECT: EPQ
RFP: Education (again)
EXPAND: OK, for those who don't know, the EPQ (which stands for Extended Project Qualification) is exactly that. I have to do a long and interesting project on the removal of the prisoners' right to vote; it's actually really interesting (well, for me at least) and I'm really enjoying the work I'm doing, but I'm finding that I don't know what to research and I'm constantly worried that I've not done enough, even though I have done a lot of work for it. I also don't seem to have the time to get as much done as I want.

That in mind, I'm going to stop writing this now and actually get on with something useful, probably the EPQ. I'm sorry this turned into a rant about education, but that seems to be what's dominating my life at the moment. Much love xx

Year 13 :S

This week, as the current Year Thirteens have been planning and executing their final scheduled days at Owen's, apparently not actually doing any work, I have started pondering what it'll be like for us next year. There are several things which are worrying me and these are what I want to write about today, not that anyone actually reads this (in pretendy posh accent) garbaaaarrrge.

Firstly that I'll end up not keeping in touch with people. Not just the important people (they know who they are, CBA to list them all), but less important people like Martha and Kelly (joke, I very love you much...). Seriously though, I saw the current year 13s saying goodbye to each other today and it became very real how far they'll be spreading out; traveling all over the country now, perhaps even Europe, the world; traveling all over the country now, perhaps even Europe, the world. They're probably never going to see 190/200 of those people ever again, and as for anyone else they know at Owen's, well they'll almost definitely not keep in touch with them. That scares me. These people have been a MASSIVE part of my life for the last six years, not necessarily a good part most of them, but I've seen them practically every day for about 1/3 of my life. 


Clearly there are some people I never ever ever ever ever ever ever ever want to see again (I'll leave that to the imagination), but there are so many great people at Owen's that I really want to keep in touch with, and I'm so scared that I'll never get to laugh at their failures (or oddly-sized shorts) again. That really scares me. I know I said that already, but it honestly does.


Secondly, what the hell should I have on the back of my leavers' hoody? I can't just have "Cracknell", that's boring. The only nicknames I have are "Crackpot", which has very negative connotations in some circles, and "Em Schmem", which only Alice calls me. Actually, that'd be pretty cool. Maybe I'll get that. OK, that problem's solved. Comments?

Finally, once I leave the safety of Owen's and the regularities of this life, I have to face the harsh truths of the real world. THAT is scary. I mean, I think my problems are pretty big at the moment, but they'll just get bigger once I leave this microcosm and join the actual rat race. The World's a big place, I don't know if I'm ready to be pat of it yet, and I'm pretty sure I won't be in a year's time either.

Sorry, offloading on the general public. not that anyone actually reads this shiz apart from Kelly, Martha and Misa, and they'll just be happy I've mentioned their names (Except Misa, who's probably on the run from the police....).