Ode to albatrosses: Pointless Rambling

It’s over. One month of exams, and thirteen years of school has finished. I’m not sad to see either go. The exams… well, the less dwelt on them the better really. But suffice it to say that in that last multiple choice paper a monkey could get twenty five percent by just randomly picking a, b, c, or d. In all of the past papers, I have done worse than a monkey. The real exam was no better.

As soon as I exited the exam (all three hours worth of logarithms, partial pressures, and nitration’s of benzene- eurgh) I went crazy. Crazy even for me. Jenny was rather perplexed when I came running towards her squealing. But I can’t help it, I have never been so relieved in all of my life. There’s too much pressure. Too much pressure to succeed, to get the grades you need for uni, and to not collapse in a quivering wreck in the middle of the exam. I take three subjects at A level, and I had fifteen exams. Fifteen! That’s five bloody exams per subject. Are they totally and utterly insane?

Up until now I have been on a man, alcohol, and leaving the house for anything barely social- free diet. My father and I came to an agreement. I stayed in the house for a month, stayed single, and stayed sober. And in return he drives me to the airport and puts a hundred pounds down on the lap top I intend to buy as soon as I get back from Germany (i.e. when I actually have spare cash). It was hard. Believe me, this has been a very hard month for me. That’s why I’ve been so whiney, boring, and irritating lately. I apologise.

But, I am getting back to my old self rather quickly and enthusiastically. In a night I have drunk nearly a full bottle of weird pink rum stuff, and I will be seen again socially as soon as is humanly possible. Unfortunately, this will have to be Friday as humans need money, and I’m utterly broke. C’est la vie.

And the men. Christ. I have no idea why I allowed him to tell me that I was basically going to spend a month celibate. I guess he just knows me too well. I am a whore for money, or alcohol. He offered me money on the condition that I stopped being a whore. I sold myself to my father. I suddenly feel incredibly perverse. I regretted it pretty much immediately after I made the agreement, but by then I had already agreed. And I do try not to go back on my word. Ah well, at least this proves that if really forced, I can exercise self restraint.

But it’s fine. It’s over. All I have to endure is one night where the teachers and students all get totally smashed, and then go and get more smashed in the pubs right after. It’s great. And this time I really won’t get involved with anyone. The last time I said that was right before five months of being slightly too involved. But I mean it this time. This time I’m not bitter, still kind of stringing someone along, or basically dumb. And anyway, flings are much more fun. Especially when I only have a week left in the country.