Friday, September 23, 2011

The World has definitely gone to pot.

Let me paint a sexy picture. 6.50am. I think I've slept about two hours in total. Every inch of my face feels blocked up by word that sickens me even to say (Clue - It rhymes with shleghm). I have tossed and turned so much that my sheets have come off and instead of putting them back on, as I feel too exhausted, I am inside my duvet cover. I try to head towards the bathroom in my strange duvet outfit. Walking quickly becomes an issue as I walk like some bumbling, grey oaf of a starfish. Why not just take it off? I bloody don't want to ok?! It gives me a sense of worth. However, I did get it stuck under the door to the bathroom a few times and have to wrestle it out like a crazy mad woman in a duvet dress...which is not what I am. I am a crazy SICK mad woman in a duvet dress. Also I would like to clarify that duvet dress did not enter the toilet itself. At the toilet cubicle door (Yes. Cubicle. It is like being at school. Actually we are at what the North American's called school, but lets not even go there because I might get onto the whole yoghurt/yeaughurt thing and it is much to early in the morning to bring that level of anger to the surface.) Anyway, I ambled (at best) back to my bed with a fresh roll of toilet paper in hand as I am too stingy to buy actual tissues (or at least I was) and started to go to town on it. Once satisfied that I was the most hideous human being on the planet at this moment time I decided to check my laptop to see if anyone loved me. A foolish idea, I know. I struggled my way through the new facebook for a while but was incapable of using it because I like the simple things in life, like rivers and trigonometry. Anyway, after having failed at seeing what people I'm not even that interested in in real life of I would just contact them directly were up to at that moment in time, I decided to throw in the towel and check my e-mail. I was happy to see that I had four new emails, although I was less happy to read that the first three were sent from StumbleUpon, Paypal and Pizza Express. Mainly because I can't go to pizza express for 9 months and I've been having trouble accepting that already without it being rubbed all over my word that rhymes with shleghmy face. Although, there was one email from BUTEX secretariat - Butex being the transatlantic scholarship thingamabob (my sensational descriptive skills are going to make the next part of what I say almost impossible to believe). I have to say I didn't even remember what BUTEX was initially, but I thought I'd give it a read, even though they had failed to spell my name correctly. Apparently being called Katharine and not Katherine seems to send people into a mad frenzy where they feel it immoral to spell it the way God (or my parents) intended it to be.

Given my quality of life at the moment I was remarkably surprised to find this babe of an email:

Although in real life they didn't send it in quite such blurry quality...
So anyway yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! My week has turned around at the final hurdle. I even got an unprovoked email from Anne Worth asking about how my time is here and asking me to upload pictures and details to the Exeter study abroad flickr page. I don't think I'll be telling her about this blog any time soon though.....
The only part (or two parts that make me sad) is that a) I have to send them a picture of myself loving life on my year abroad. If you know me (and I bloody hope you do, otherwise I LITERALLY have no idea what you are doing here), you would know that I hate having my photograph taken. Furthermore I am terribly British, and I feel that any love I have for life should be suitably oppressed under a fa├žade of scathing and witticisms. At some point I'm going to down some vodka shots and hand Jess the camera. I might wait til winter when the snow will go up to my ears anyway and I will be unrecognisable.
b) I don't even remember what I wrote, and I hate reading my own writing so much that I fear I will never know as I am not man enough to hit the open button on my application.

I remember the gist of it I think. I think it was something about comparing the process of the study abroad to packing a suitcase. James Joyce, eat your heart out! It doesn't take made up words and incomprehensible jargon to make great writing - all it takes is a bit of extended metaphor.

Also, you may ask why I went through the laborious process of scene setting and lamenting my illness. Well. I wanted to make sure everyone knows that I am suffering, because I am selfish and self-obsessed. If you don't like it...I'll be blogging about you next. Bitches.

Anyway, as it's rolling up to 7.40am and I have done no reading for today's class I think it's time I watched the Christmas episode of Outnumbered.

Will write again after the weekend once I become a tie-dye sensation...or if anything worth writing about happens in the near future. But what are the chances of anything like that happenAHHHHHHHHH! OH MY GOD! ALIENS ARE ATTACKING!

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