Rock ya body mic check one two
21.01.06, 1:29 pm

Spent one evening watching a video of Mel on a family camping holiday when she was 8, and consequently embracing a mega fringe, big sunglasses and leggings. Mel and her family are such a load of Geordies, it�s fantastic. She originally brought the video up to my room as it contained footage of the sodding Tyne Bridge, even though I�ll be seeing the damn thing for real in a few weeks. We also got to see her 9th birthday party, including a fantastic bit of footage of Iain on a trampoline, waving his arms around like a fool and then falling over. MUST mention it to him when he�s next down.

Part way through this Hannah stomped up and made a huge deal about how she was trying to sleep and could hear every word of the video in her room. Hannah evidently has sonar hearing, seeing as I�m on completely the opposite side of the house to her and a floor higher. Plus it was only half ten at night. Plus she could have just told us to shut up in a nice casual way, instead of making out that we were being allegedly noisy on purpose. No doubt she thinks this is part of our big conspiracy to have secret fun without her (because, you know, we�re actually all still 12), even though that was the first night me and Mel had had off since we started revising, and the whole thing was completely spontaneous anyway. In other words: screw her.

Oh, I should probably talk about how my exams are going. The two I�ve had (brain disease one and motor neuroscience one) haven�t actually been bad, but the two hours of solid writing they demand is killing my right hand. Plus I�m having to write REALLY BIG on account of my tiny handwriting (orders from my sister, my tutor, Paddy, Mel, Becky and the milkman, it seems), so it looks a little scruffy. Hope they don�t assume that I�m a complete moron on account of my unruly handwriting. But yes, so far so good � I�ve even drawn diagrams. I�m just praying my essays have been 2:1 standard. Amy�s blatantly haven�t been, on account of her living at her boyfriend�s (up in Leeds) over the exam period. I really don�t get her; it�s like she�s happy with her current Pass average. I�m also sick of carrying her through her degree. Rah rah rah.

Revision�s taking over my whole existence at the moment. The worst of it is having to learn the authors and dates of all the journals I�ve forced myself to read and plan to cite in my answers, because they�re all very similar, i.e. Blah et al. Worst comes to the worst I can always just make a reference up and risk sounding like an uneducated boob. My next exam is the one on ion channels and disease (Paddy�s just texted me with: "Just been looking over my notes for BMS303, there�s these random Olga comments all over the show�. Olga�s the graffiti lecturer that I banged on about for a whole entry, if anyone�s forgotten, and I wouldn�t blame you if you had), and is all the way over in sodding Hillsborough (yeah, the stadium). Also, Amy has proved her general shit friendness by saying, "Well, I�ll be driving there, so I�ll just meet you there", even though she lives just up the road from me and could easily offer me a lift. Screw her as well. Luckily Paddy is of the traditional friend type, and is working on us both getting a lift off his housemate, Neil. Well in indeed, as the tram�s reat expensive.

Yes, revision. The revision I do at home makes me very restless, and every now and again I have to get up and dance manically round my room to ridiculously rubbish songs like Roc Ya Body, seriously pissing Becky off in the process. Hopefully she�s not going to request a transfer. I�m sat c&ping PowerPoint slides from the Uni website onto my own PowerPoint thing, so I can print them out, and I�ve just noticed that the guy who gave us the last week of lectures has about 38 slides per lecture. Do I look like I can handle 114 slides on TRP channels? Maybe I just won�t bother with them, and do the alternate essay question if it comes up in the exam. I don�t even know what TRP channels are in the first place, because I didn�t bother going to those lectures on account of them being boring. God, I am such a rubbish student.

My gran rang the other night, and she asked what I was planning on doing with my degree. I did my usual spiel of how I wanted to work on neurodegenerative diseases like Parkinson�s and MND, and added a "You never know, maybe I�ll find a wonder cure" for good measure. Which my gran totally took seriously, and went banging on with "Just think if you were on the team that found a cure!" I said, loudly, "That�s seriously unlikely", which luckily managed to partially drown out her follow-up sentence of "Your mum would have been so proud". I HATE it when she says stuff like that, or indeed when anyone says stuff like that. It�s the most pointless thing in the whole world, and makes me feel all weird. No doubt that weird feeling is actually sadness, being turned away from the door to my brain by security. Those guys deserve a pay rise.

I noticed the other day that I�m the only person in this house that has blue eyes; all the housekids have brown. My boredom and geekdom levels have evidently reached an all-time low. I�ve just noticed a post-it note stuck to my desk that chirpily reads: "The two distinct parts to cerebellum stuff: Allen et al. (1997)" I didn�t put 1997 in my exam. I don�t care anyway, because I hate the cerebellum and I hate Greg Allen et al. and I hate post-it notes, and I don�t even want a Neuroscience degree anyway so that�s just fine.

In breaking news, I burnt my hand last night on the crap saucepan that we own. Its handle heats up as hot as the metal sometimes, even though it�s made out of plastic. I called it a "big stupid fucking saucepan" because I�m mature for my age. Better get back to the big R.

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