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minervasoloIf I were to write Virgil/Dante, would it be RPF because they're both real people or just plain fanfiction because they only time they come together is in the Divine Comedy, which is a work of fiction?
Yes, that is the question that kept me entertained during my Cambridge interview. Note the single. Kinda regretting the single. I'm sure it went fine, but I keep thinking of things I could have said better, and now want to send them a nice list of al the alterations. The problem is, I'm arrogant. A large part of me is asuming I'll jsut get in, while the rational part of me is declaring I won't. Problem is, when it comes to academic things, i almost always do get what I want, even when i don't really want it. I'm not sure how I'll react when i don't. So far the closest I've come to that is getting a B instead of an A in IT AS, which I'm hardly bothered about. But I'm already assuming I'll get into Cambridge, more so now because I know a lot more about what it's like (fact to fuel the fantasy) and considering I've already worked out several points in which my interview could have gone considerably better, and considering the odds i'm facing...
If I don't turn up at college next term, I've had a nervous break down while I try and get used to failure. Just so you know. We hear in hte first week of January, see.
If I don't get in, i might do as Anria's planning and just reapply next year. Though I'd take one of my other offers first. Thank god we don't have grants any more, actually, since changing uni kinda means it gets taken away in most cases.
Anyway, met lots of lovely people. Cambridge is populated by fit people. Most pleased. Actually, the country is populated by fit people, but a lot of them happened to be applying to Cambridge the day I was. Had a wonderful conversation with Lisa from Edinburgh, a Jonathan (can't spell, but he was a sweetie! Never stopped smiling) from Hull, Phil from Yorkshire, Phil from the Isle of Man, a girl from N Ireland and Chloe from i don't know where. Loving the accents! Next morning was spent chatting to Adam from birmingham, who bears a worrying resemblance to my ex, Jason, except fairer skin and blond hair (and a Burmmie accent). Must remeber to add him to my MSN. Toots! Anyway, the accomadation wasn't bad, though only second years get ensuites, and even then it's hit or miss (might be double rooms only). The food is crap but incredibly cheap, so the kitchen's are only used once a week for a bit of variety. Five minute walk form hte city cetnre, which is a vey god thing because I thought I was walking back from book buying and ccoffee drinking 45 minutes before my interview, when it was in fact 15 minutes. Bought Dante's Divine Comedy, as some may have gathered, to distract myself for a bit, reading it in Starbucks while watching history applicant study copious notes out of he corner of my eye.
Been staying at Gran's since. For a woman over 80 she's doing well, but she probably shouldn't be driving. Probably should never have been driving, really. Kills clutches by only ever using second and third. Driving along the motorway at 70 in third. Pulling away from a stadnign start, having parked, in second. Poor car. And she's not good in the dark. Mum was making squeaky noises.
Anyway, Chloe and Harry came up on Saturday, so this "How did your interview go" spiel has been nicely prolongued. And more tomorrow! Woo.
I have terribly blistered feet. Comes from lugging heavy bag back and forth around Cambridge, then shopping for three days straight in Norwich. I now have two new tops, two new bras (finally satisfied my desire to own a wonderbra, and am now wondeirng what all the fuss was about), two new 'pikey' bags, a strange set of dangling plastic hearts and some tacky pants. Hey, they were £1, and I didn't buy hte tackiest pants, despite my inner exhibisionist screaming for me too. They were black, and see though, and a g-string, and had little red fluffy pompoms on ribbons at the back. As Chloe pointed out, I couldn't have worn them without the pompoms showing, and that would have made me look like a Prostitute. Oh well! Anyway, they went unbought, but I've now finished my xmas shopping. Much pleased.
To do, randomly:
find the gay bar in Gford
find Britney Spears RPF
finish BMB fic before BMB finishes
stop going to bed at 8pm just because I'm bored. Almost did it tonight too, becaue Harry was on the computer, but he's gone out now. I'd never have had time to type all this before college tomorrow
Yes, that is the question that kept me entertained during my Cambridge interview. Note the single. Kinda regretting the single. I'm sure it went fine, but I keep thinking of things I could have said better, and now want to send them a nice list of al the alterations. The problem is, I'm arrogant. A large part of me is asuming I'll jsut get in, while the rational part of me is declaring I won't. Problem is, when it comes to academic things, i almost always do get what I want, even when i don't really want it. I'm not sure how I'll react when i don't. So far the closest I've come to that is getting a B instead of an A in IT AS, which I'm hardly bothered about. But I'm already assuming I'll get into Cambridge, more so now because I know a lot more about what it's like (fact to fuel the fantasy) and considering I've already worked out several points in which my interview could have gone considerably better, and considering the odds i'm facing...
If I don't turn up at college next term, I've had a nervous break down while I try and get used to failure. Just so you know. We hear in hte first week of January, see.
If I don't get in, i might do as Anria's planning and just reapply next year. Though I'd take one of my other offers first. Thank god we don't have grants any more, actually, since changing uni kinda means it gets taken away in most cases.
Anyway, met lots of lovely people. Cambridge is populated by fit people. Most pleased. Actually, the country is populated by fit people, but a lot of them happened to be applying to Cambridge the day I was. Had a wonderful conversation with Lisa from Edinburgh, a Jonathan (can't spell, but he was a sweetie! Never stopped smiling) from Hull, Phil from Yorkshire, Phil from the Isle of Man, a girl from N Ireland and Chloe from i don't know where. Loving the accents! Next morning was spent chatting to Adam from birmingham, who bears a worrying resemblance to my ex, Jason, except fairer skin and blond hair (and a Burmmie accent). Must remeber to add him to my MSN. Toots! Anyway, the accomadation wasn't bad, though only second years get ensuites, and even then it's hit or miss (might be double rooms only). The food is crap but incredibly cheap, so the kitchen's are only used once a week for a bit of variety. Five minute walk form hte city cetnre, which is a vey god thing because I thought I was walking back from book buying and ccoffee drinking 45 minutes before my interview, when it was in fact 15 minutes. Bought Dante's Divine Comedy, as some may have gathered, to distract myself for a bit, reading it in Starbucks while watching history applicant study copious notes out of he corner of my eye.
Been staying at Gran's since. For a woman over 80 she's doing well, but she probably shouldn't be driving. Probably should never have been driving, really. Kills clutches by only ever using second and third. Driving along the motorway at 70 in third. Pulling away from a stadnign start, having parked, in second. Poor car. And she's not good in the dark. Mum was making squeaky noises.
Anyway, Chloe and Harry came up on Saturday, so this "How did your interview go" spiel has been nicely prolongued. And more tomorrow! Woo.
I have terribly blistered feet. Comes from lugging heavy bag back and forth around Cambridge, then shopping for three days straight in Norwich. I now have two new tops, two new bras (finally satisfied my desire to own a wonderbra, and am now wondeirng what all the fuss was about), two new 'pikey' bags, a strange set of dangling plastic hearts and some tacky pants. Hey, they were £1, and I didn't buy hte tackiest pants, despite my inner exhibisionist screaming for me too. They were black, and see though, and a g-string, and had little red fluffy pompoms on ribbons at the back. As Chloe pointed out, I couldn't have worn them without the pompoms showing, and that would have made me look like a Prostitute. Oh well! Anyway, they went unbought, but I've now finished my xmas shopping. Much pleased.
To do, randomly:
find the gay bar in Gford
find Britney Spears RPF
finish BMB fic before BMB finishes
stop going to bed at 8pm just because I'm bored. Almost did it tonight too, becaue Harry was on the computer, but he's gone out now. I'd never have had time to type all this before college tomorrow
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