Today I awoke at 6am, on a friends sofa and wrapped in what I remember to be a Barbie themed sleeping bag. Altercations with parents meant that returning to my house when I came home this weekend would have lead to my head being impaled upon a broom handle and erected in the front garden, for all to see.
I caught the 6:59 back to university, to meet with my Course Tutor at 9 so that we can discuss my resits. This was a big step for me, I'm actually taking direct control over my education, and although it was a small step, it was significant. I organised and attended a meeting concerning my education, FML. It's not important for me to pass the year so that I can continue next year as I will be leaving to study new A levels, but I feel a duty to my ever-loving and supportive parents.
Good news now, a dear friend of mine from school has spoken to his Ward Consultant father who works at a prestigious university hospital in London about work experience for your's truly. This is indeed exciting, I know to many this seems arbitrary, but to me it's nothing short of what opiates are to the common skaghead.
I am currently sat in a sort-of quiet study area, some Eastern Bloc students are discussing something in hard-toned accents and dialect, so I have no way of knowing if they are discussing the intricate workings of their group assignment, or if they are heatedly debating the Peter-Jordan split. A mystery I shall never know.
Okay I have an already late Personal Development Profile to finish up and hand in. It has reminded my why I hate Marketing... It's fucking pointless.
Messy
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