Like Sirens, they call me.
“Look at me… look at me…”
“No – I must be strong.” I look away. “Get thee behind me, New Course Materials!”
I ignore them, but they sit there, muttering and sulking.
“You can sulk all you like,” I tell them, “I don’t have the time. I’m revising. I’ve got an exam soon. When that’s out of the way, then YES – I will come out to play.”
“Oh, but something might be missing – then what would you do? You’d be stuck then… and you’d get behind… and you don’t like that, do you?”
“Oh, OK then – since you are not going to give me any peace – I’m simply going to check you out, make sure everything is there that should be… YES… All present and correct. Now where was I? Ah yes, looking at British TV genres.” (AA310 Film & TV History)
*small cough* “Er... excuse me….”
“YES?” I snap.
“OK – so you’ve checked we’re all here, but we might not work… it’s not like we are a book, we are CD ROMs and DVDs – we might be corrupt.”
“OK, I’ll install the software – will that stop the nagging?”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll promise to stop distracting me?”
“Oh yes!”
“Right… OK then – but you are going on Computer Number 2, the one I use for photo and video editing – I’m not falling into the trap of switching Computer Number 1 on – the one that links me to the outside world, with Scrabble games and Facebook and the Wonderful Wondrous Web and online shopping and emails that offer me Ugg-boots and chocolate and gadgets and all manner of extensive surgery – improving the parts of me I don’t actually possess, for that would be foolish.”
“Yeah, whatever!”
Computer Number 2 purrs into life, all snazzy blue lights, instant – well compared to the 10 minutes Number 1 needs to load all it’s bits and pieces, with it’s annoying habit of telling me there’s no firewall installed because it hasn’t got round to loading it yet. Computer Number 1 is a doddery old man. In Doctor Who terms it's William Hartnell. Number 2 is more David Tennant.
“Oy! New course materials!”
“Yes?” (Innocent and wounded.)
“You said if I loaded the software, you’d stop distracting me!”
“I have.”
“Then why am I thinking about David Tennant?”
“Nothing to do with me gov. Thought you were revising!”
“Yes – I am trying to.”
“Wot you revising?”
“Science Fiction, Star Trek, Doctor Who…”
“There you go then – not my fault.”
“Sorry.”
“I should think so too. I was sitting here, minding my own business, didn’t even draw your attention to the DVD.”
“The DVD?”
“Yes – the tutorials.”
“Oh, I see, well I don’t need to do those yet.”
“Might be scratched.”
“What?”
“It might be scratched.”
“I heard… I’m installing it now!”
“Good, then you can go back to your revision.”
“Yeeeeeeessss…. Ooooooh… tutorials… better check them through…..”
(Three hours later.)
“Hello!!”
“Shhhhhhhhh!”
“HELLO-O?”
“I am trying to concentrate!”
“But it’s lunchtime.”
“Oh, it’s YOU stomach. Here have these crisps.”
“But I want REAL food.”
“Can’t, too busy. Have them and shut up. You LIKE crisps.”
“But I had crisps for breakfast.”
“And…?”
“All the salt is making me thirsty.”
“But if I have to go downstairs to get a drink I’ll get distracted… and I need to do well in the exam… I’m rubbish at exams… I need to……”
“Revise?”
“Aghhhhhhhhh! Oh evil, evil New Course Materials. You KNOW I am weak and easily distracted.
“Yes,” (sounding smug now), “You should have got back to work!”
“Oh don’t worry, I will. I am going to put the other computer on now, to type up my notes.”
(Ten minutes later)
“I will be strong…
Just need to check for emails… Oh mainly junk, *delete*, *delete*, *delete*… I’ll check my Scrabble games, rude to keep people waiting… I’ll just update my Facebook status. Right – load Microsoft Word, ready to type up notes…
Focus…
Focus…
Focus…
Dr Who and Star Trek… is… um… Come on brain… You KNOW this….
Don’t wander… don’t wander…”
“Space, the final frontier.”
“Go away.”
“Captain’s Log…”
“Stop it.”
“Captain’s Log… Captain’s Blog…”
“BLOG? Oh I know – I could write a blog about revision.
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Mortar boards (offensive weapons)
Lurking about in a forum recently, I came across a heated “discussion” about mortar boards. No one seemed prepared to sit on the fence on this issue. Half the contributors were outraged that OU don’t ‘do’ mortar boards at their graduation ceremonies. The others were relieved. I belong to the latter group, mainly because I look like a prat in a hat. I’m too short, I’ve got the wrong bone structure, plus I’ve got the sort of hair that instantly moulds to the shape of a hat. Weddings were a nightmare until fascinators - those delightfully frivolous feathery affairs – became ‘the thing’.
Yet despite recognising that they do look quite imposing on photographs, I have a very good reason for being anti-mortar board. My daughter graduated last year from a Uni that does ‘do’ mortarboards, and yes – she looked great, and it was a proud moment. But, being a short girl, she was on the front row of the group photo. After what seemed like an hour of the photographer and his megaphone-wielding assistant arranging the students, it was 1 – 2 – 3 hats in the air… click! And the photo was done.
Some of the students however didn’t so much toss their headgear into the air as launch it into orbit, and as the daughter was mid-throw looking up, one crash-landed on the bridge of her nose, making a sickening cracking noise, leaving her looking dazed, with an evil swollen purple bruise developing that lasted for two weeks, and leaving me wondering what would be an appropriately sensitive time-lapse before I sent the video-clip in to ‘You’ve Been framed’ to claim my £250.
I’ve heard people ridicule the banning of these ‘up in the air’ shots – but if anyone you know is in such a photo, tell them to keep theirs firmly on their head for protection and whatever they do, don’t look up!
Yet despite recognising that they do look quite imposing on photographs, I have a very good reason for being anti-mortar board. My daughter graduated last year from a Uni that does ‘do’ mortarboards, and yes – she looked great, and it was a proud moment. But, being a short girl, she was on the front row of the group photo. After what seemed like an hour of the photographer and his megaphone-wielding assistant arranging the students, it was 1 – 2 – 3 hats in the air… click! And the photo was done.
Some of the students however didn’t so much toss their headgear into the air as launch it into orbit, and as the daughter was mid-throw looking up, one crash-landed on the bridge of her nose, making a sickening cracking noise, leaving her looking dazed, with an evil swollen purple bruise developing that lasted for two weeks, and leaving me wondering what would be an appropriately sensitive time-lapse before I sent the video-clip in to ‘You’ve Been framed’ to claim my £250.
I’ve heard people ridicule the banning of these ‘up in the air’ shots – but if anyone you know is in such a photo, tell them to keep theirs firmly on their head for protection and whatever they do, don’t look up!
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Revision - or re. vision
It’s time – I am now convinced – that I have to admit defeat and start wearing reading glasses. There’s no excuse really, I have two pairs. Personally I think they make me look like a prat, but one day I am going to look a bigger prat for not wearing them. It’s not that I am too vain to wear them, it’s more to do with being too idle to put them on and forgetting to put them in my bag. I tend to manage without them when I am out.
I’ve been revising like there is no tomorrow – well sort of. Clearly IF there was no tomorrow I wouldn’t be revising at all, I’d be eating as much chocolate as physically possible. I’ve even made a revision timetable. Basically I’ve gone through my calendar and written the word REVISE on every day. But after an entire weekend of reading and typing notes, my eyes have been red, puffy and sore.
OU can take over your life, especially at revision time when pre-exam desperation sets in. Occasionally though, it has to take a back-seat when life’s necessities take over – like yesterday. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do as much revision as I wanted, so I took a book with me to read on the train – and a highlighter pen. On the ‘out’ journey I had a disapproving woman sitting opposite me ‘tutting’ every single time I highlighted a key phrase or random word. It reached the stage where I was considering writing a rude comment across the top of the page and highlighting it. In the end, though, I didn’t. She looked like she had been a teacher in a previous life, so instead I chose to sit there, smirk and look out of the window – that is the general effect teachers have had on me over the years.
On the return journey the most irritating man in the world sat opposite me, he was up and down off his seat, kept walking up to one end of the carriage, and into the next one, and back again. I’ve always been easily distracted, and concentrating was impossible. The lid stayed firmly on my highlighter pen. I couldn’t be bothered to get the reading glasses out of the bottom of my bag, underneath my usual collection of essential items, purse, cagoule, pens, USB memory thingies, camera, spare batteries, MP3 player, and so on.
I just sat and read a few pages on British Cinema – a bit blurred because I couldn’t hold the book far enough away without invading someone else’s space. The moment I realised reading glasses have now become a necessity was when I read the words, “…as well as Glenda Jackson and Gemma Jones in supporting pants.” It was a couple more sentences before it filtered through my clogged-up revision-addled brain, and I said, (out loud), “Pants?” (it actually said ‘parts’). I completely lost it at that point and gladly packed the book away as we pulled into the station. I then walked off into the night, smirking.
I’ve been revising like there is no tomorrow – well sort of. Clearly IF there was no tomorrow I wouldn’t be revising at all, I’d be eating as much chocolate as physically possible. I’ve even made a revision timetable. Basically I’ve gone through my calendar and written the word REVISE on every day. But after an entire weekend of reading and typing notes, my eyes have been red, puffy and sore.
OU can take over your life, especially at revision time when pre-exam desperation sets in. Occasionally though, it has to take a back-seat when life’s necessities take over – like yesterday. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do as much revision as I wanted, so I took a book with me to read on the train – and a highlighter pen. On the ‘out’ journey I had a disapproving woman sitting opposite me ‘tutting’ every single time I highlighted a key phrase or random word. It reached the stage where I was considering writing a rude comment across the top of the page and highlighting it. In the end, though, I didn’t. She looked like she had been a teacher in a previous life, so instead I chose to sit there, smirk and look out of the window – that is the general effect teachers have had on me over the years.
On the return journey the most irritating man in the world sat opposite me, he was up and down off his seat, kept walking up to one end of the carriage, and into the next one, and back again. I’ve always been easily distracted, and concentrating was impossible. The lid stayed firmly on my highlighter pen. I couldn’t be bothered to get the reading glasses out of the bottom of my bag, underneath my usual collection of essential items, purse, cagoule, pens, USB memory thingies, camera, spare batteries, MP3 player, and so on.
I just sat and read a few pages on British Cinema – a bit blurred because I couldn’t hold the book far enough away without invading someone else’s space. The moment I realised reading glasses have now become a necessity was when I read the words, “…as well as Glenda Jackson and Gemma Jones in supporting pants.” It was a couple more sentences before it filtered through my clogged-up revision-addled brain, and I said, (out loud), “Pants?” (it actually said ‘parts’). I completely lost it at that point and gladly packed the book away as we pulled into the station. I then walked off into the night, smirking.
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