i feel like talking to somebody. Mr Bloggie, you'll do fine.

Let's talk about something different, shall we? yes. no. yes. no. no.
yes.
no!

i don't know. I should be thinking of lit...but i'm just not equal to it right now.
how the hell do you write an essay on poetry anyway? oh gosh.
shh. kate. calm down. breathe.

i've written two practice essays. I surprised myself. They weren't too bad (and by that i mean they actually had sentences, not just words littered about senselessly). But then...i've been wrong before. I may be overestimating myself. They may in fact be crap. They probably are.
And anyway. Experience has taught me my brain refuses to function under pressure. And exams are the divine examples of pressure situaitons.

Like in the year ten exams (God to be back in good ol' year ten. Complaining about staying up to nine o'clock doing homework! shock) i'm trying to lighten the atmosphere by reassuring myself that the future will come. The exams are not the stopping point in my life. There's something beyond that. I'll, one day, be able to look back and go, thank god that's over.
But it does little to reassure me. Because i'll look back and feel the shame of my pitiful performance. And, unlike year ten exams, these ones actually count towards TEE. What can one say, other than 'fuck'? That single word is all i seem to spout recently. I don't know how many times, after staring at a blank screen for a couple minutes, i have scrawled
FUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK
across the page.

Letter 'k' is so harsh, don't you think? So angular in word, so biting in speech. It cracks against the air. No wonder its in the f word. No wonder the infamous racist group is called the ku klux klan. And my name is Kate. No, i won't injure my name, because then i'm concurrently insulting the other million who share it. It's so very common. Sometimes i can hardly believe that's my name. That's my NAME. i think many people get that, don't they?

well. no use putting it off any longer. we don't have much time Kate.