I'm not dead.

I've just had a horrible few weeks.

Well, the Gareth version of horrible. It's not like I've had to walk 6 miles to a diseased lake every morning with a heavy vase on my head; or been made redundant, diagnosed with terminal cancer and engulfed with worry about how I'm to support my 4 kids and wheel-chair bound wife.

BUT!

I have had three big essays to do, and being a bit of drama queen I find it far more exciting to stress about them - "I can't do it! I'm ganna fail the year!" etc... - instead of actually doing them. Which could've been done in about a day, instead of the 2 weeks stressage + one night's caffeine induced jitter and paranoia fest when I actually typed them up.

But it's all good, 'coz now I'm finished for the year and no longer have to feel guilty about missing media and european film lectures in order to watch Trisha cure the nation. Although I have got one further week of feeling guilty about not revising for my two final exams, but I'm an old hat at revision guilt, what with going through my GCSE's, AS's and A2's on about two hours study combined. Plus, those exams were on proper subjects. Not Film and TV. Fabulous.

I really am due for a fall sometime.


x