New Blog

This blog is dead. Go to the new one...

http://logic-gate.blogspot.com

I know I said I wouldn't post anymore until after the exams, but the temptation really was too great and there have been certain developments since the last post.

The good news is that my body overcame the flu virus and I was in top-notch shape for my English literature and ICT exam. Both went fine (although I wrote twice as much as everyone else for the English paper, which is worrying me slightly...). For all those that commented, thanks for the good advice.

Torquer got us tickets to see Russell Howard and possible Rob Rouse (if he can be bothered to buy them) for £5 each.

I've also got a ten day break before my next exam (geography).

The bad news is that Liverpool lost the champions league final to AC Milan and I'm absolutely gutted. There'll be no parade around Liverpool this time around (which is a shame since the last one started right next to my house).

Hopefully, because Liverpool lost, I'll do well on my GCSEs. Karma works like that right?

Now I'm officially going on hiatus and I won't come back until after my exam are over (in three weeks), and this time I mean it. Honest. When I return there'll be some major changes to this blog.

Just My Luck...

I swear I must be allergic to examinations.

Last year, I was struck down by chicken pox during my french mocks (thank god it wasn't the real thing. I would have been really screwed if it was). I complained about flu-like symptons on the day (which my friends mocked, calling me a pansy and other far worse derogatory terms), and woke up the next day with itchy red scabs all over my body.

My Dad, being the sensitive guy he is, told me to "stop making excuses to get off school" and to "take it like a man". I ended up bed-ridden for two weeks with chamomile lotion encrusted over my skin.

This year, during my mocks, I had spontaneous neumothorax. It's spontaneous because it randomly occurs (just my luck I know...) and it was bloody painful as well, so I was stuck in a dreary hospital for three days until the pain subsided.

And now, during the REAL GCSEs, I have been battling some sort of cold/flu virus that has infected me at the worst time ever. Two important exams tomorrow and I feel sick and my head is splitting.

My body is usually a fortress, so why must my immune system fail whenever I'm about to sit an exam? I can just imagine the conversation between my white blood cells: "Jingo's about to take an exam... T-CELLS, STAND DOWN. I REPEAT: T-CELLS STAND DOWN. LET ALL PATHOGENS THROUGH. I REPEAT: LET ALL PATHOGENS THROUGH... Let's see him take his exam now!" Or something along those lines...

I think God is conspiring against me.

Anyway, I've decided to put this blog on hiatus, mainly because I need to be focused for my exams and this is unfortunately a distraction. Also, the blog has degenerated somewhat since I'm lacking the will to write (something to do with impeding doom of exams).

Once my exams are over, I'll have time to properly improve this blog.

I'll be back in three weeks.

A Revision Update

Forgive me for the lack of detail in my last post about citizenship - Had I the time and concentration, I would have properly ranted about this blended and diluted politics/history/media studies joke of a subject that citizenship is.

However, my time and concentration is somewhat divided at the moment since my GCSEs kick off in a few days time. A lot rides on the fact I do well - a cushy future, not feeling like shit during the holidays and a Nintendo Wii (maybe...) are all up for grabs.

In the next two weeks, I will be sitting my Citizenship, English Literature and ICT exams (in that order). Therefore, you may not hear from me any time soon. Citizenship and ICT are not a problem (I've already mentioned how easy the Cit. exam is, and I'm going into the ICT exam with a B grade - so shouldn't be too difficult), it's the English Lit. exam I'm worried about.

English Lit. is the toughest of the two English subjects (much harder than English language). It requires you to have memorised about 20 different poems, the entire "Of Mice and Men" novel, and is the most analytically challenging of the two. To put it bluntly, I am shitting one.

In a desperate attempt to intellectualise myself, I have decided to listen only to Classic FM (and the occasional Radio 4 comedy). I've also started praying - Not to any God in particular, I do it just to make myself feel better.

Hopefully I'll come out of this victorious. My next update will probably be during the half-term, when I've finished my first three exams.

In other news, I can't believe that weird looking girl won the Eurovision for Serbia. I really wanted that Dr. Evil look-a-like for France to win, or those drum-beating Hungarians (they had attitude!). Ireland, in true Father Ted fashion, came last which was pretty funny. I'm just glad England didn't end up with nil points.

And I watched "Scientology and Me" as well. How can anyone buy into that crap? It's not even a religion! I don't see why celebrities are so attracted to it, it doesn't seem to have any benefits whatsoever. You don't see people paying a hundred grand to read the next chapter of the Bible.

And finally, I'm looking forward to the Champions League Final. I can't wait until Liverpool kick AC Milan's arse, just like before!

That's it. I can't wait until these GCSEs are over.

Citizenship

What does it take to be a good citizen? An A* in GCSE Citizenship that's what.

Last year, I was offered the chance to take this extra subject, which would increase my GCSE tally to 11 and give me a chance to add another shiny A* to my currently small collection (it'll be bolstered in a months time I hope).

Having "studied" (I use the term very loosely) the subject for a year, it's hard to take it seriously. The course mainly deals with human rights, diluted politics and current affairs; topics that can be learnt from simply watching the news. As long as I can still recognise Tony Blair, the exams shouldn't pose a problem.

Here is a sample question from one of the citizenship past papers:

You have found a caterpillar in a sandwich you have bought. Who do you complain to?

A. The government
B. The police
C. The supermarket

Apart from being ridiculously simple, citizenship is only a half course so if I should achieve an A* grade, it would only count for a C grade's worth of UCAS points (these precious points are needed to qualify for further education). So basically, citizenship is micky mouse.

And I've done fuck all in lessons. The teacher has been on leave since having a mental breakdown so I've just been sleeping and playing cards every lesson.

Oh well. It's only citizenship. My exam is a week today.

Le Francais

Remember when I said I'd do a post for every subject I will be sitting this year? To start, I thought I'd do a post about French, a subject I did a year early and miraculously got an A* for.

Next week some of my friends will go for their french orals - They'll experience the same dread, the same fear, the same pain I went through. And I won't be sympathetic - I'll laugh, and make inappropriate jokes, and I'll fill them with horror stories (I'm not fucking with you! They made me translate french passages of Jules Verne into english I swear!). I'll do exactly what they did to me a year ago. Oh how revenge is sweet.

There was a time when I was afraid French. I was afraid it's subtle accents and gendered nouns, afraid to read out passages of TriColore, afraid of the embarrassment generated from calling a friend copine instead of amie (or vice-versa, which one meant girlfriend again?). But what I feared most of all were the French Orals.

You probably find it amusing that a language can have such an effect on me, and you're probably thinking up jokes involving the French and orals as we speak. But laugh all you want, the mere thought of French reminds me of that day. The day of my dreaded GCSE French Speaking.

Instead of doing some frantic last minute preparation, I came into school and just sat in a corner pondering. Why oh why did I have to take French? Sure, the language sounds damn sexy but was it worth three precious years of my life to learn?

I could of learnt Spanish (a lot easier) or Latin (a whole lot more useful) but instead I chose this! A language spoken by a bunch of baguette wielding anglo-hating beret-wearers who wouldn't even give me directions to the Louvre! (I had to learn the hard way - being stranded in a Parisian street filled with hobos). And what made me choose to take this a year early? I'm too young and stupid! I'm not ready yet to face the cruel rigours of examination, I want to frolic in the Sun without a care in the world!

I waited in the corridor for what seemed like an eternity, with those doubts racing through my mind - I entered the room, I did my oral, and I can out a changed man.

Whenever I recall those moments in that room, I sound like a Vietnam veteran: "you weren't there man! The silence, the flickering lights, that disconcerting smile... Oh God! In those split seconds your mind goes blank, and you can feel the pressure build and you're sweating like a pig... Never again! Never again... *incoherent mumbling*..." I would gladly face the might of Xerxe's Persian army rather than go through that ordeal again.

But I got A* so I can't have been that bad.

Getting Better?

I knew I wasn't on blistering form in terms of maths results, but I must have been on crack or somethin' when I took that test. I won't post the results since I don't want you all to think of me as some kind of mathematically-challenged, numerically-braindead cretin, so let's just use the euphemism "could have done better".

I feel bitter - like a former beauty queen who's grown too old. I can't quite come to terms with the fact that I'm no longer number one and I'm ever hopeful of clawing my way back to where I truly belong, and that's at the top.

These are dark days indeed. The Gods of calculus are fickle beings - As soon as you start believing you are Blaise Pascal and can solve every Millennium Prize problem, they taketh away and you are left with nothing more than an empty feeling and a half factorised quadratic equation. I wish the Gods would restore me to my former glory, especially since my actual additional maths exam is in a few weeks time.

But it's not all doom and gloom. Things are getting better.

My English abilities have improved tenfold - I know the blog doesn't quite show this, but my English results beg to differ. I think it's because I now know "Of Mice and Men" off by heart, and my poetry analysing skills have vastly improved. The only thing holding me back now is my essay structures (which can be easily remedied).

I suppose I should be glad, since it's not hard to improve maths (it's all about practise and memorising equations) but how on earth does a person go about improving their English? The only way is to read a lot of books, or have the natural ability. Both can't be done the night before, which makes me feel somewhat better after screwing up the maths exam.

So whilst Maths ability has fallen, English ability has risen. Since English counts for 2 GCSEs, and Maths is some kind of post- GCSE, pre- A-level qualification thingy, perhaps this is for the best. Nevertheless, I will be working night and day to improve those maths results.

As I come nearer and nearer to the GCSE exams, I'll probably do a post on every subject I'll be sitting for. There's two weeks to go before things kick off with my Citizenship exam (just to ease into things).

Stick around. Things are soon to get exciting.

300

I can't believe how poor this film is.

You don't need to have read Sun Tzu's "The Art of War", Machiavelli's "Dell'arte della guerra" or even played on Rome Total War to realise that the warefare in 300 had no tactics whatsoever. This is totally unsatisfactory, considering this is an adaptation of the Battle of Thermopylaie, when vastly out-numbered Spartan hopilites out-manouvred the Persians in one of the most famous last stands in history.

I'm no film connosseur, and I don't watch innovative indie art films. I was prepared to overlook the pathetic dialogue and boring plot as long as it redeemed itself with the "Lord of the Rings"/"Kingdom of Heaven" style epic battles scenes I had expected when I watched the trailer.

Instead it was just close-up filming of Leonidas and (at most) ten other Spartans slashing at ethnic minorities, and making "hwargh" sounds whenever they reach a milestone of kills (that's the level of dialogue you should expect when watching this film).

This gets repetitive after awhile

And I know that a great deal has been made about how the film misrepresents the Persians in history, and how it's propaganda for the war in Iraq. At the time, I thought: "That's a load of bollocks". But having watched the film, I have to admit, they have a point.

I saw nothing wrong with King Leonidas hacking at waves of Iraqi insurgent look-a-likes, but Xerxe's special guard (The Immortals) were taking the piss a bit.

Wait until you see what's underneath those masks

They looked like Taliban wearing mongol masks carrying samurai swords. I mean that's pretty far-fetched to begin with, but when they took off their masks, they looked like extras from Resident Evil (You see them in the trailer, but not their zombie faces). Although they look like your Asian stereotype of super-warriors, underneath it all they are bloodthirsty zombies. I can see how associating Asians with pure evil can be a tad insulting.

Not as exciting as it looks

And let's not forget the monsters, and African animals (it was a joke how little they featured, and how unexciting they were). And Xerxes himself who's a 7-foot freaky homosexual with a very camp voice synthesised so that it's deep.

I can't see how anyone could be so shallow as to like this film (unless you enjoy looking at chiselled abs. In which case, this film must have been incredibly enjoyable).

Add. Maths

My brain felt like it had just endured several bottles of German schnapps. My neck hurt, my back hurt, my wrist hurt, my eyes could no longer focus properly. I felt like collapsing on the cold concrete and wait for the numbness in my mind to subside, or at least until I got my vision back.

As I walked home, I kept asking myself: "What the fuck happened?"

Having been left to squint at a ridiculously hard test paper in a darkened room for over two hours, I can be fairly certain it was maths. I mean, there were numbers and x's and y's and stuff, but it asked me crazy questions about binomial expansion and kinematics and crap I can't even begin to contemplate.

To say I was overwhelmed would be a bit of an understatement - Binomial expansion seems to need about a tree's worth of paper just to fit it all in and kinematics... I didn't even know such a term existed until last week.

What happened to the Jingo of old who beat 120 people in his year in the KS3 Maths SATs and basically owned everyone in the subject? Ah, those were the days when I was sharp as a knife and algebra would solve itself right in front of my eyes...

But now-a-days, I'm so confused I don't even know whether to differentiate or to integrate anymore. People walk past me, watching me slave over an equation, probably thinking to themselves: "That poor bastard, if only he knew you have to differentiate to find the gradient..."

So it's a fall from grace. I put it down to naivety, lack of revision and overconfidence (being a cocky bastard).

I have made a vow to myself that I'll revise 3 hours every night. Honest. This time I'll actually stick to it instead of procrastinating in front of the computer.

Actually, I haven't even got my results back so we'll wait and see.

Let The Music Do The Talking

Since I no longer have to worry about coursework, and have badly over-estimated the amount of time I'll revising, I have freed up quite a bit of time.

So I thought I might as well do this music tag of my top 10 songs. I tend to "acquire" hundreds of albums, and I've got about twenty gigabytes of music, so choosing just ten to list here proved quite tough.

My taste also changes every few weeks, so I can never stick to one band or one song. Since the collection is so massive, I occasionally discover hidden gems in my own collection, or I re-listen to old albums and realise the songs have grown on me. Sometimes I just get albums for the sake of getting albums, and only listen to them months later, Or even not at all.

So anyway, here's the list:

1. Ignoreland - R.E.M
One of my favourite bands. A friend gave me "Automatic For The People" and every song on it is pure class.

2. Cosmic Girl - Jamiroquai
This was the first song I heard by Jamiroquai, and it's clearly his best (although his best album is Dynamite). I then became a massive fan of his, even his earlier acid jazz stuff, which has grown on me lately.

3. Reason is Treason - Kasabian
When I first got the album off Torquer, I hated it. I didn't even listen to it. I gave it a chance months later and found their electronic rock quite psychedelic - it was like listening to music on drugs. Definitely not your conventional boy band.

4. Love In An Elevator - Aerosmith
Another one of those bands I loved when I was younger (I've moved on from them since then). They are one of the few glam rock bands I actually like.

5. You Got The Style - Athlete
Britpop at its finest. Will I ever get tired of Athlete? Although not a big band, these guys are fantastic.

6. Manchester - The Beautiful South
That's right, I like old music as well. I doubt anyone outside the UK will have heard of them, but their witty lyrics and mellow tunes are brilliant.

7. Big Yellow Taxi - Counting Crows
An American indie band (I think). I was bored at a party watching a music channel when this song popped up. Based on that one song, I got their Films About Ghosts (their greatest hits).

8. 19-2000 (Soulchild remix) - Gorillaz
This is the best remix I've ever heard - All remixes should sound like this. I also recommend Gorillaz - Their electronic tunes are perfect for parties.

9. Living For The Weekend - Hard-Fi
I discovered them whilst in London, and I saw a big poster advertising their "Stars of CCTV". Very catchy tunes.

10. Rooftops (A Liberation Broadcast) - Lostprophets
Don't let their emo look fool you, they are an excellent metal band. Rooftops in particular is very inspiration and I can imagine it being played in the stadiums.

This list will probably change in a couple of weeks time. To finish off, I'll list the albums I acquired this month:

Cassadega - Bright Eyes
Dreams: Ultimate Collection - The Corrs (ah the nostalgia...)
Yes, Virginia - The Dresden Dolls
The Remote Part - Idlewild
Get Born - JET

If I carry on at this rate, I'll have no space on my computer anymore.

I tag anyone who can be bothered.

No More Coursework

Oh the relief...

Over the Easter Holidays, I have been fretting for many an hour about the marks of my coursework. If I do well then I've got a head start for my GCSEs, and it'll boost my chances of a high grade. Do poorly and I'll have condemned myself to shit grades before I've even sat the test.

I'm not sure if they have a similar system in other countries, but the UK assesses their students with GCSEs at the end of Key Stage 4 (I'll be sixteen when I sit my exams, so just think the equivalent). Part of the assessment is coursework, which contributes to a percentage of the grade (the percentage depends on the subject. At the moment I'm not even sure the exact percentages for each subject).

Coursework was the governments idea of getting students to think in a different way and experience what "real life" is all about - Normally the coursework involves some kind of large project that then needs to be documented like a kind of extremely diluted thesis or somethin'. It's stupid because marks are determined by the amount of effort the school/teacher is willing to put in, and how willing they are to "bend the rules". It's also incredibly easy to plagiarise since there's a million resources on the Internet.

That's why the government has decided to scrap it. My year will be the last to ever do it.

So anyway, I'm really rubbish at coursework for some strange reason. Something to do with my lack of ability to write reams and reams of waffle. I have spent hours and hours re-writing and correcting coursework, only to have it handed back to me with even more agitated scribbles and red pen. To have finally put coursework behind me is like a weight off my shoulders.

But there's still the actual GCSE exams to think about, so it'll be a stressful two months ahead...

I probably won't be able to blog as much, so don't cry for me if I'm not as active online as the date approaches (apologies in advance if I don't comment on your blogs).

In other news, I had my mock interview today. I'll probably do a post on that later. I also realise I've been tagged twice and haven't gotten round to doing them - I apologise. I've been incredibly busy.

Last thing to add - Go to Torquer's blog. Find out about the guy I constantly slag off.

High Street

After scrutinising the contents of my rather sparse wardrobe, it dawned on me that I was a growing boy and couldn't keep wearing clothes I've owned for over five years. It's not that I don't care about my image, I actually care about it a great deal - It's just I'm such an incredibly lazy and busy person that I can't spare the time to go to town and do a little shopping.

If I were to burn all the clothes I deem to be uncool, and ignored all my cold weather clothing, I would be left with practically nothing to wear. Therefore I made some hasty phone calls to get some of my mates into town to accompany me whilst I get kitted up for the Summer.

I was glad I brought Torquer with me, who despite dragging me into a "Tesco Metro" to buy one tube of toothpaste (to earn club card points and use up club card vouchers) and a "Boots" to buy some Dead Sea facial scrub, seems to possess unrivalled knowledge of every clothing retailer in Liverpool.

I don't normally shop in any of the fashionable outlets (or shop at all) so it was slightly intimidating when we entered shops like "Topman", "Burton" and "GAP" where the doors are flanked by emos clad in black with various bits of metal nailed to their faces. Topman in particular was some kind of grungefest, where a hybrid species of Surfer/Emo had evolved.

I also noticed that stripes seem to be incredibly fashionable right now, especially stripey hoodies (to cater to the chav community no doubt). Burton had nothing but stripes and I left when I couldn't find a single fleece with a zip (not in season apparently).

And GAP - £40 for a pair of jeans? Are you having a laugh? Just because it's multi-tonal and has a couple of fashionable rips doesn't mean I'm gonna fork out an extra £30 for a pair. Torquer told me that Marks & Spencers do jeans that look exactly the same as GAP for half the price which made me feel somewhat better (he's a wealth of information that lad. Don't know what I'd do without him).

You may gather from all this that I don't go shopping often. The most I've spent on one piece of clothing was a pair of trainers for £40. The idea of spending more than £5 for a shirt or £10 for a pair of jeans makes me hyperventilate.

So we rounded off the day with a trip to the MetQuarter - where the most fashionable shops are situated (Gucci Exchange, Prada etc.). We didn't buy anything (far too expensive), but we did see Mikel Arteta and Tim Cahill shopping there.

People who watched the 2006 World Cup or are fans of the Australia national team may be familiar with Tim Cahill, who scored twice against Japan in the World Cup finals and was part of the team that nearly beat the eventual winners Italy - So he's pretty damn famous. I wanted to get my picture taken with him but my friends wouldn't allow it - they claimed that since we were Liverpool fans, it would be like fraternising with the enemy.

A shame really. Later on we watched a crappy Horror film.

I plan to go on another shopping expedition after my GCSEs. Hopefully then I'll actually buy something.

Horror Films and The Truth About Torquer

Have I become really desensitised, or have horror films become really un-scary of late? I went to town last Saturday with a few friends in the hope of buying some new clothes but ended up loitering until six, then being forced to watch "The Messengers" at the shitty Odeon (which cost me £8.30 in total - almost the same price I paid for the two sexy T-shirts I bought that day).

After watching "The Messengers", I have decided: a.) to never go to the rip-off Odeon ever again b.) never watch a rated 15 horror film ever again. I sat through the film bored out of my mind, trying to scare my mates by proving commentary (which didn't go down too well).

Horror films have no creativity these days - they all seem to follow the same rules. For example, the little pale blue ghost boy that looks like it's been rotting in a stagnated lake for months. I remember seeing the same thing in the Grudge (except the one in the Grudge was less CGI'd) so I got a distinct feeling of deja vu (both were about families moving into derelict houses, only to be freaked out by the ghost kid who happens to haunt the place) when watching this. The idea of the creepy little kid has been so over-used it's about as scary as Casper.

The resemblance is uncanny
And the boring shock tactics - I see no point in something jumping at me unless it's really unexpected. They build it up with slow movement and dramatic music but when it comes to the actual shock part it's just so anti-climatic. Perhaps I'm just nit-picking but horror films have become so samey and boring.

So if I ever watch a horror film ever again, it'll be an 18. None of that namby-pamby 15 rated stuff for me.

Afterwards, I was a little concerned about Torquer who had been impassive throughout the film - he hadn't moved a muscle and looked like he had been in a coma.

Only then did it dawn on me - Torquer's house was haunted.

It made so much sense: his exploding television, his mum hurling herself off a flight of stairs in the night, his shelves flying off his wall (I'm not making this up, Torquer told me himself)... Hilarious calamities that are completely unconnected? Or something more sinister?

And I've just remembered - his family bought the house cheap after the previous residents died in "mysterious circumstances". I wouldn't be surprised if his walls dripped with blood in the night and ghouls flied out of his cellar (I assume he has a cellar. It's probably boarded up to hide the hidden Indian burial ground the house was built on).

No wonder Torquer is so weird and charges people for pencils. The paranormal activities in his house must have addled his brain, causing him to persue such unusual past times such as lemon-growing, Formula 1 watching and Ikea assembling.

As soon as he comes back from Nottingham, I'll quiz him on this.

In other news, I met Mikel Arteta and Tim Cahill whilst shopping in the Met Quarter! But I'll save that for another post.

Sefton Park

The phone starts ringing.

Oh God no, not again. I really should have learnt from the last time I left my cordless phone in my room. The room was basked in a golden glow as I groped for the phone.

Robin: Can you make to Sefton Park today?
Jingo: What? At this hour?
Robin: It's half ten, Jingo. It's hardly the early hours of the morning.
Jingo: (checks watch) Oh right... So what's this talk about going to the park? It's 6 weeks before the GCSEs! I'm not jeopardising my future just to have a frivolous game of football.
Robin: So? Stop being a loser.
Jingo: I have a study routine going on here, I can't abandon it! I have a future to work towards!
Robin: Seriously dude... You're beginning to sound like Torquer...
Jingo: What? No!
Robin: Even he's showing up...

As I was on the phone, I drew back the curtains to reveal a perfect spring morning - The radiant shimmering sun-drenched landscape of the outside world a perfect contrast to my depressingly dingy bedroom. I realised it would be criminal not to capitalise on such a fine day.

So I had no choice - I went to Sefton Park. We spent hours there kicking the ball around until the point where we couldn't move because of cramp.

I also learnt a valuable lesson - never wear glasses when playing football. Torquer somehow managed to smack the ball at my face from point-blank range, and my glasses managed to somehow dig into my eyes and fly off my face simultaneously. I stumbled around on the glass groping for them while he laughed in my face, feigning concern.

I was on my hattrick as well, the bastard.

So all thoughts of revision flew out of my mind. I may fail my GCSEs but atleast I got a decent game of football.

Thank God It Is Easter (Part 2)

This goes beyond all common sense, but it seems like I’ll be pulling another all-nighter. What now Jingo, more important coursework that needs to be handed in tomorrow morning or you’ll have fail your course and die of shame? No. This time I’m keeping myself awake because I’m trying to prove a point by spending the entire night completing a chemistry revision guide. A Chemistry Revision Guide 127 pages long that’s stuffed with challenging questions and I intend to complete it, even if it takes the whole night. And I’m doing this, to prove a point - To myself. I think I’m going insane.

(I’ve just spent half an hour sitting in the dark mulling over my thoughts. That can’t be normal.)

And I’m doing this on the start of the Easter holidays, the English equivalent of the infamous Spring Break. Whenever I think “Spring Break”, I picture girls in small bikinis playing volleyball and basking in the sun whilst drinking pina coladas, or house parties where everyone is falling over and laughing and making out with each other (yes, I do realise I watch too many American teen movies) – so basically, people having excessive amounts of fun. Therefore it depresses me to be alone in the dark, trying to figure out the empirical formula of calcium carbonate while people half a world away are living it up without a care in the world. It sickens me how cruel life is.

So why don’t you stop subjecting yourself to this mental torture and get some sleep, you may ask. It’s not even like this remotely matters, or will have any impact on me at all – I won’t magically understand chemistry by doing this.

Since I'll have no study leave, this will be my only chance to revise properly before the exams begin in 6 weeks time. I intend to make the most of it, even if it damages my health.

So basically, my Easter won’t exactly be chocolate eggs and fluffy bunnies. At least that party-animal, wild-child Torquer will come round during the holidays – he’ll probably bring his lemon plant photo collection and rant about the benefits of a Mac, as he sneers at my pathetic Windows powered laptop. He’ll probably bore me into submission so I’ll have no choice but to study and revise.

And why the hell does no one buy me chocolate? It seems the school tradition of buying each other Easter eggs is restricted to just the girls. It’s either that or I’m incredibly unpopular/my friends are stingy bastards/no one is willing to spend money on me.

So anyway, I’m really looking forward to this relaxing break from school. Now if you excuse me, I have chemicals to calculate.

Note: I do realise I've repeated a lot of stuff from my last post. The last one didn't really express how I felt (and was kinda crap) so this one makes up for it.

Thank God Easter's Here

This week has really drained the life out of me - I've been chasing coursework deadlines, depriving myself of sleep and generally fretting over the GCSEs that loom over me like a dark cloud. At this rate, my health will slowly deteriorate and I'll waste away as I walk further down the road to self-destruction. Will there be any respite?

Thank God Easter has come. It really couldn't have come sooner. I think the American equivilent is Spring break, which has always conjured up thoughts of bikinis and beaches and excessive fun (I have been watching too many American teen movies). It's depressing to know that I'll be spending "Spring break" sleeping, procrastinating and doing casual revision - so there'll be not an ounce of fun.

(I'll probably invite that party-animal wild-child Torquer to mine sometime in the holidays. He'll probably bring his potted plant photo collection to ease the boredom or somethin')

The Easter holidays gives me two weeks to recuperate, then there'll be just a month before I start sitting my GCSEs, something I've been working towards in the last few months. These two weeks will be devoted to working towards not screwing up.

In other news, I badly want a Nintendo Wii. Since I can't afford a PS3 and I hate all things Microsoft, I'll probably save up for one of these in the Summer.

4am

The phone is ringing.

I stumble out of bed, groping for the cordless phone I had inadvertantly left in my room. It's dark but I can hear birds twittering.

It takes an eternity for me to answer it, and when I do I hear this: "Oh shit. I forgot to dial 141..." I hear some laughter in the background. They then put down the phone.

Oh fuck. It took me some time to register what was happening. I glance to the clock and it tells me it's 4am. Before I can even dial 1471 to trace the number, they redial.

I put the phone down. They call again. I unplug the phone.

I was up till fucking 12 doing fucking coursework and I was absolutely fucking shattered. I can't deal with this shit. Needless to say, I was not a happy bunny next morning.

I made some enquiries back at school and found the culprit. I then went on MSN and gave him a right bollocking (apparently he was drunk at the time). After giving him a piece of my mind, I doubt he'll ever try that shit ever again.

Anyway, there is more to this gripping tale... which I'll tell you about when I'm not inundated with coursework. I'm also not getting enough sleep.

The Great Coursework Panic

At the time, I made a vow to myself that I'd stay ahead of the game; that I'd keep on top of my coursework; and I won't piss about and wait until the end then panic and stay up till 3am when I'm absolutely shattered and have a twitch in my eye. Fast forward to now - it's 1am on a weekday and I'm typing away in semi-darkness, overwhelmed by the massive stacks of coursework that surround me as I try to meet the hundreds of deadlines.

Yes, I have a sense of deja vu. But this time, instead of a relaxed atmosphere of beer drinking and cherry tomato eating, I'm vaguely listening to Radio 4 comedy whilst half-reading the Budget for 2007 in The Guardian. I like to think of it as intellectual stimulant. Oh and I'm completely wound up, and have this horrible twitch that makes it impossible for me to look at the screen.

And to think I laughed at Torquer when he decided to sacrifice the first episode of the new series of House MD in favour of redrafting his english coursework. I watched it (and thought it was great) but now I pay the price; he's probably snug in his bed dreaming away while I'm in a mad rush to complete chemistry coursework. I blame Channel 5. Why would you put the first episode of House MD and Shark on the same day?

To make matters worse, the school has announced there will be no study leave this year. NO STUDY LEAVE. This means I'll be in school before and after these massively important exams. Not only will I not be able to concentrate, but I'll also feel like shit as well. Great.

And another thing, I'm just not getting enough sleep these days because of workload and this is making me incredibly tired. It's like the sleep version of oxygen debt, but instead of lactic acid my body is producing grouchiness.

And I'll finish off there. This post has probably degenerated into inane ramblings but I'm just too tired to read over, or put in the links to Wikipedia so you know what the hell I'm talking about. I'll probably regret ever writing this in the morning...

Edit: Does anyone know how you can possibly collect carbon dioxide (which is heavier than air) in a test tube to measure it, after producing it from calcium carbonate marble chips when reacted with hydrochloric acid? Now that I think about it, does that even produce carbon dioxide? This is what happens when you work in the early hours of the morning...

Grand Theft Plagarismo

The panic has set in. I've decided to barracade myself in my own room, with nothing more than a Budweiser, some Danone Activia apricot yoghurt and a brioche to keep me through the long night ahead. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I might even have to cancel watching Prison Break tonight.

Yes, I'm willing to make sacrifices. All for the sake of a few extra marks on my coursework. Is it even worth it? Would I do just as well in my GCSEs without a few measly extra percent? Unfortunately, this may have a massive effect on my future and I'm not willing to take any risks.

If only I had Torquer for guidance. He is a coursework-writing genius and seems to be able to achieve 100%s effortlessly, while I on the other hand toil night and day, writing reams and reams of the stuff only to have it sent back to me covered in red pen with little yellow post-it notes that read: "This is pure drivel and has all the literary value of a Harry Potter novel." or something along those lines.

Alas, it seems the only way I'll get 100% in my Business Studies coursework is if I commit an act of Grand Theft Pagarismo and ransack his computer harddrive, making copies of the Business Studies coursework he has worked so hard on.

Or I could just work hard on my own. Maybe I should do that instead of contemplating ways of stealing Torquer's work and getting distracted by this blog.

I've just noticed my Budweiser has been replaced by a bowl of cherry tomatoes. How very strange...

A Buffet is a Buffet is a Buffet

Imagine me striding through the darkness in Liverpool city centre; Uni students stumble out of pubs vomitting or cackling inanely as I stare in awe at the neon lights and gaudy nightclubs. In all my years living in Liverpool, this is the first time I've been to this part of town; perhaps it's because of the unsavoury rabble that seem to loiter around this area, or the high likelihood that i'll get mugged if I walk around, looking dazed, by myself in the dark.

Did I mention I was wearing my school uniform? So there I was, walking through Liverpool in my blazer looking a total ponce, as students of varying levels of drunkeness give me odd looks.

So why was I risking my life amist the bustle of Liverpool nightlife? Well, for some unknown reason, my Dad was taking some business colleagues to some swanky new buffet that had just opened and he suggested I join him. Since there'd be no one at home to cook I had the difficult choice of deciding whether to go home and starve, or navigate through Liverpool's drunk quarter then endure my dad's boring company for an hour.

I managed to make it through the city without being knifed and when I reached the buffet, I was quite impressed. The place was huge and the food smelt good and the waitresses were all very pretty.

But when I went up to get some food, I realised that a buffet is a buffet is a buffet. As swanky as this place was, it was still a buffet and that meant generic anglo-chinese food that you have to get yourself and bring back to your small table that too close to the other tables and so you can hear everyone else's boring conversation. I don't like using stereotypes, but I was surrounded by thieving scousers; whole tables were stuffed with them as they traded stories about thuggery and drunkeness and the number of ASBOs they had "won".

Nevertheless, I ate until I was bursting and look forward to going back there to stuff my face.