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I cannot actually believe I just had a screaming match with my mother because I was in the front room, with no shoes, no food, no drinks, reading, for an hour this afternoon.
I fucking hate it here.
I fucking hate this house, and I want the old one back.
I fucking hate it here.
I fucking hate this house, and I want the old one back.
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I'm sorry, Sophie.
Hang in there.
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The summer is for me-time. There has never yet been a year where the end-of-year exams did not run me smack into a brick wall, mentally, physically, emotionally, ecumenically, gramatically, and I have no reason to expect this year to be anything but worse than usual, considering: last one! SO, the summer is for recuperating; when we had an early Millicon and a late D*C, I had thought about couch-surfing my way from one to the other, but now... I don't know! I am still nominally intending to come to D*C, but for various reasons, I am not really sure about that, either.
Back in the mists of time, the idea had been that I would move on to grad school (Museum Studies in Leicester, in the UK). I still fervently, fervently want to do this, but, uh. There comes a time in every girl's life where she has to accept that she is not yet in a fit state to deal with the stress of grad school (on top of that of living abroad & alone for the first time) without cracking completely. There is also a time in every girl's life where she has to convince her parents of this, but that was extremely not fun, so let us not speak of it.
At the moment, so that I am not completely taking a year out from my studies, the plan is to find work - any kind of crappy gopher work - in any museum that will pay me, and (more likely) to volunteer if they will not; the National Museum, at least, has been known to do this, so. DO WANT, after all, and having some kind of relevant work experience can only help both in my course at Leicester and in applying to it.