OK, don't get me wrong. Cambridge is a badgering weird place, no doubt about it. Hell, it even has it's own reality checkpoint (and a goddam wikipedia article about it!). But in exam term it gets worse.
Here are some examples (sorry, you'll probably have to click on some of the pictures to make them bigger - I got a bit carried away with GRAPHS because I like GRAPHS and when you start drawing pictures on GRAPHS they get rather big. I've also treated you the amazing picture quality of my scanner >> taking photos of drawings with a camera, which is a bit shit but surprisingly efficient.)
A weird fog of panic descends over my college library every year for the last ~6 weeks before exams. It's fucking horrible. But they DO have DVDs in there now, including Seven Samurai (which some BASTARD has renewed), David Attenborough and hilariously trashy stuff like "The Devil Wears Prada". I think the librarian went on Amazon while on magic mushrooms or something.
My (and I suspect most people's diets) just go to shit. Like eating cereal all the time. ALL THE TIME.
When "A meal" = "several cups of coffee", you know you have fucking issues. Especially when you think it's fine to supplement this with "biscuits from the departmental coffee time" (well, they are free...).
I have also eaten 4 creme eggs for lunch once (someone keeps anoynomously leaving them on my desk! Honest!). I do not recommend this. There is a fucking reason you need to eat vegetables, mainly relating to your digestive system not going "OK, seriously Railton. What the christing fuck are you DOING TO ME?!?!?!?". Urgh.
But anywayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I give you the rage-o-meter. (Which is by no means complete. A complete version I fear would take up the whole of my new 1.5TB external hard drive (it's so SHINY....) ).
I mean wasps? What the fuck? STOP FLYING INTO THE SAME BIT OF WINDOW SEVERAL HUNDRED TIMES.
Rage.
Anyway on the subject of libraries one of the most badgering annoying things about them is the stage whispering. This is whispering that isn't real whispering because it's too fucking loud, and is instead just the right decibel level and breathy enough to be UNBELIEVABLY FACE-PLANTING DESK ANNOYING.
I might (almost certainly) being just a bit weird about this, but it really fucks me off. Big time. I mean, I can hear every word you say anyway, why not just say it in a less annoying voice? Jeez. Here is the dramatised version of library dramatic whispering rage:
I think this maybe the reason that all the 3 years students in the Institute of Astronomy library find me a bit .....intimidating.... No doubt they probably know me as "the weird 4th year girl with mugs with swearing on" or something.
I think I would make an awesome librarian though. I'd sort out annoying people with the help of sarcastic, sweary signs.
These could have loads of practical applications. Like dispensing fashion advice...
...or improving late return statistics.
Best. Librarian. Ever.
Good night!
**EDIT** Apologies for brevity/shitness/poor frequency of posts. I'm a bit snowed under, sorry!
So, one of my friends made the mistake of sending me this. (Sorry for linkage, but it is pretty goddam funny so worth reading). It reminded me of the completely fucking amazing Powerthirst viral youtube thingy.
I therefore decided that the sensible thing to do would be to try this.
With high caffeine content coffee.
I mean, what can go wrong, right?
Coffee. With flames on. WITH FLAMES ON PEOPLE!
So, two cafetieres, ready to go. The suspense was killing me. I mean, would this even be drinkable? WOULD I BECOME INVINCIBLE? WOULD I BE ABLE TO DO SO MUCH MATHS THE WORLD WOULD EXPLODE?
Please note the GDBO mug. No other mug could hold a beverage so potent.
(May not have actually happened.)
OK, so I really only did some adding and that a bit more quickly, but I was rather energetic. FOR FOUR WHOLE HOURS.
It was also pretty disgusting to be honest. And also quite...thick tasting. This could easily be taken to higher powers too - triple coffee, quadruple coffee, (coffee)^10... At what point this stops becoming a beverage and starts becoming solid/alive/biohazard, I would not like to guess.
But yes. Doublecoffeeohmygod.
Other stuff that's happened apart from me making coffee is of course HBR,aka "The real boat race", etc etc. I was my first time watching it, and it was WEIRD. Powerless to do anything, but feeling the pain of losing and the the raw joy of winning all the same. It was emotional to say the least. More emotional than I thought it would be too: the memories and the pain of my two loses (rage) were dragged up raw to the surface.
It really is an odd race, a weird system. Your whole season is summed up in the outcome of one race. One seven minute race. Past successes are inconsequential, future successes don't matter. I did two of these in the blue boat, one in 2009 and the second the following year. Losing the first one was bewildering. More confusion then pain. Losing the second was devastating. Don't really know how to explain it really. It sounds really pathetic, but it was stuff like hearing Oxford cheering when they cross the finish line, and you still have a bunch more strokes to row, the fucking pity clapping on the row home. Christ. Bad times.
But yes, before I get lost in the midsts of time. Watching it having done it, the emotion was pretty intense.
First up was Blondie/Osiris. Something weird happened with Oxford steering into Cambridge, not moving, repeatedly refusing to move. Ended up with Blondie catching an epic boat stopping crab and having to restart. We (the dudes in blazers on the banks) all though they'd lost and had no clue what had happened further down the course.
Then we heard Osiris had been disqualified and the bank exploded.
Nice.
Next up were the lightweight women. AND THEY WERE IN THE FUCKING LEAD.
And then I rather pathetically had a little cry.
I told you it was emotional.
Then, 3pm. The two women's blue boats. Fuck. This is it. This is what I came here to see. Fuck fuck fuck just fucking win please just fucking win.
The bank went quiet, trying to hear the announcer. Come on. Come on. Fuck fuck fuck.
They came past were I was standing, with Cambridge 1/2 a length down.
No no no no no no no no no.
Fuck it. Day ruined. I walked back to Leander boat club to de-rigg their boat. (There's a semi-informal tradition that old blues and that de rigg the boat after the race.
Bad times. I didn't even see the lightweight men, which was a shame because although they lost too they were fucking heroic (rate ~42 down the whole course? Fuck. Me.)
There was a ball afterwards, but I am always a bit shit at stuff like that. Probably because it involves dresses.
Hmmm.
Other stuff other stuff. Change the subject.
I have been a rather self-pitying pathetic human being at the moment to be honest. Went out for a scull in my boat to cheer myself up a bit and I was shit. Like really shit. OK, so there was a tricky tailwind but still. It was like I'd never been in a boat before.
It's always a bit upsetting when you're not as good as you were at something, but I made my choice in November when I stopped training like a mental. If you want to be good at rowing you have to do it. A lot. And I'm going to have to accept that. I just wish I could get over myself and stop beating myself up about it so much.
Oh Jesus you self pitying bastard.
Sorry, this is probably making exceptionally crap reading. Hmm. OK. I different tack. Here is a picture of a baby meerkat!
From here. For all your baby animal picture needs.
Baby platypuses are called "puggles". And they are awesome. Even more awesome than doublecoffee!
I also happen to be a fan of anteaters, so here's one:
See! I have a beanie baby anteater and everything!
On that bombshell, I bid you goodnight.
P.S. Exams are looming, so I am very likely to lose all grip on reality/sanity soon.
I happened to be on a Tube the other week, carrying a bubble-wrapped Polynesian fishing spear (but that's another story - if you ask me nicely I'll tell you) when a couple got on and sat opposite me. Now I like a bit of people watching, me, but was a little sad when this happened:
I dunno, maybe it's just me but the way they simultaneously sat down, got out their phones and ignored each other was a bit....? I might just have underestimated how completely awesome iPhones are and am being pathetically old fashioned here, but pfft. WTF is wrong with holding hands and talking about the weather or sommat?
Wurg.
Anyway, apologies for not posting for a while (*checks previous blog post*OMFG OMFG it's been like a month!). Sorry :-(
I am going to name both (a) 500 fucking mugs arriving on my doorstep and (b) minor mental break down for my reasons for not posting for A WHOLE FUCKING MONTH.
As you may/may not know I'm organising the sale of these bad boys for CUWBC:
It was sort of fun at first, a sort of logistical challenge. "What's the most efficient way of delivering these x mugs to y different colleges before my 9am lecture?" etc. etc.I even laughed when 500 of the things arrived.
Yes it fucking was.
However, it turns out that 500 mugs is quite a lot of mugs.
I quickly lost touch with reality.
It just never seemed to end.
.....
But anyway, superimposed on this was a bike drama of epic proportions. Like, EPIC.
So the back wheel has been bent for a while.
No biggie. Just meant it was a little on the slow side. Then it got a puncture.
I decided it was time to change by back wheel (and get a new inner tube on the way).
After about 2 fucking hours I had my bike in working order. The back wheel went round and everything! Excitement!
I then woke up the next morning to find my lovingly repaired bike GONE. GONE I TELL YOU GONE.
2 days past. Ranty facebook statuses were posted. I was well and truely pissed off.
But then! A miracle! I was walking down the road I had orignally left my bike on and lo! There it was! (Turns out some arsehole had just picked it up and carried it for 200m. I felt very silly. And yes, I know I should have locked it to something etc etc , but I've learnt my lesson now).
Cue a day of happy cycling round Cambridge, scattering rose petals and giving Ferrero Rocher to people delivering mugs. I was content.
OK OK OK breathe. I am by this point what is commonly known as fucking pissed off with fixing my fucking bike all of the fucking time. But I think that is a reasonable reaction.
1 week passes. Then for no reason whatsofuckingever:
As a result of all of this, I spent a lot of time riding round on my other, actually nice, bike, which happens to be quite a nice (if I say so myself) Bianchi track thingy. The hero of this post. Never usually left outside. Hmm. I therefore spent about 2 weeks cycling around on a very hipster-esque bike, with a messanger bag full of mugs, rolled up jeans.... bascially looking like a massive hipster twat. I think once I even wore my "Love me, love my bike " t shirt by mistake, so my twated-ness was all the more exaggerated.
Rage. But yes. Punctures always happen in 3s guys. Remember that!
Anywayanywayanyway. I should probably wrap this up. I have an interview tomorrow* for which my main preparation has been trying to ignore its existance. (*DAMTP, for a PhD. FUCK.)
ANNA YOU HAVE A FUCKING INTERVIEW TOMORROW!
I am expecting a complete intellectual massacre. The interview panel:
How I think the interview will go:
*Tries very hard not to think about it*
WURG.
Anyway, I'm going to watch David Attenborough's "Life in the Undergrowth" now. I expect this will give me some fucking weird dreams, but what the hell :-)
