Well, ten weeks in and that blissful aura of denial has begun to wear off. Ever the optimist, I started the year thinking, well ok, so it’s the Leaving Cert. Seriously, like how bad can it be? Flake away at the study, ignore the general hysteria, and it’ll be over before you know it. Happy days. In August I actually had myself convinced that it wouldn’t really affect life as I knew it all that much. Really.
Two months and five A4 pads and three mock orals and approximately a gazillion hours of homework later however, I think it’s beginning to get to me slightly. Mid-term, far from ameliorating the situation, has actually made it worse; it’s only this week that I’ve really had time to assess the damages.
First of all, theres the list-making. In my former, happier pre-leaving cert existance, I was well up there in the competition for most disorganised person on the planet. Possibly, I’ve just spent far too long staring at French vocab lists, but lately, I have this disquieting urge to categorise anything and everything in alphabetical order, in nice straight lines with numbers next to them, before viciously crossing them all out again in red pen. Its bee particularly bad this week; lists of homework, lists of revision, lists of all the stuff I want to do but probably won’t due to inconvenient existance of previous lists… This and the fact that I haven’t lost my locker key once this year, and that I appear to have subconsciously memorised both my own timetable, and that of my best friend to be recited on demand would appear to suggest that I have most likely developed some form of stress related OCD. At the very least.
In contrast to this, there’s the absentmindedness. I make cups of tea and wander airily off, leaving them in the weirdest of places, often with half dunked biscuits still floating on top. This week, I have found shoe polish in the fridge, football boots in the duck house, and for some unfathomable reason, two packets of raisins and a toothbrush in my violin case. This is eccentricity on a whole new level. I can remember the definition for a homologous series of organic compounds, but not for the life of me the name of the one with the red hair from Northern Ireland on the X Factor. Maybe it’s nervous exhaustion from all the English homework, or just the first inevitable signs of impending madness, but either way, it doesnt look good.
In the last half term, I have become a compulsive pencil sharpener, a nerdy mind mapper, a Lemsip addict, and a spontaneous, back of the oh-so-silent-maths-class hummer of bad Stereophonics tunes. I have become a worrier and a whinger, and most recently,God help us, a Leaving Cert blogger.
It can’t get much worse than this though. Can it?