I’m just going to moan a bit.

Dear Leaving Cert,
Kindly feck off and stop ruining my life.
Love as always,
Aisling x

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. This is not nice at all. I speak of course, of study guilt. It’s a new experience, and one I am really not embracing at all. Any worries I had last year could always be assuaged by the ritual slaying of brain cells that occurred at the weekends, but unfortunately now that’s seeming to exacerbate the situation. Regardless of how excellent this weekend’s proceedings were, the dark cloud of an ignored impending Biology test, or the intense lack of History partaken in casts a shadow over the entire affair. Various ideas have been bounced around, from learning to change a tyre and becoming a mechanic to becoming a Russian prostitute with a crack habit. Which, arguably, would be better for my health than this whole exam year thing.

Dá mb’Fhéidir Arís dár gCumann. Why? I like Irish. I speak it at home. Myself and the mammy are mad Gaeilgeóirs, I chatter away as Gaeilge to anyone who will answer me, and I regularly go as Aisling Ní Mhaoláin. Myself and Irish, we’re pals. Were Irish a person, we’d probably go for pints some weekend. But this damn poem.. Woman is sad due to husband’s death but does not grieve, goes into valley, suddenly starts crying, goes home and writes a letter to aforementioned “buried husband”, then all is suddenly well. Logically.
Eh, wha? I understand that this poem can be quite sweet in a weird twisty way, but how the hell am I supposed to write about it? There’s not a single straight forward sentence. Irish, we’ve been through a lot, but you’re pushing it.

On the bright side, I’ve bounced back slightly from that feeling of “I have so much to do that it’s hopeless, and should probably start working the streets now”. Yesterday evening I was practically in tears coming home, bent double under the burden of work to be done, after a weekend of being a waster. Even a good cup of tea could not sooth my worries – and that’s not a regular occurrence. It’s amazing how much good a night of proper work can do. And a good giggly English class. Abusing Wordsworth in a variety of highly un-PC ways may not be thoroughly educational, but by God was it necessary. Also on the good news front is that my Maths Exam Papers have arrived. I now have a new best friend, we’re not gonna leave each other’s side between now and June. Maybe July, I’m gonna find the separation hard.. Strong medication and a therapist are needed, pronto.

Anyway, I should stop procrastinating and go learn some essays. Or I could watch Inbetweeners first.. Yeah, I’ll do that 🙂 Slán!