It's the final countdown

Tomorrow, I have my penultimate final. As ever, I'm unprepared! So far, these exams have gone by in a blur but these last two are beginning to drag as everyone around me seems to be finishing. There are carnations, confetti and cries of joy all over college and it's becoming harder to keep my focus. I don't have the same determination I did at the start of this (near three week long!) process and am not really putting my heart into these last exams. I think my slight apathy is exacerbated by my worry about what I've done so far plus thoughts for next week with lots to organise and lots going on. I should be focused on my last two papers. Instead I'm thinking: when will I have time to get ready, when will I pack, will I be able to fit this event in; have I made the right decision to sign up for this, did I remember to book that train...

I think it's obvious that I need to breathe.
Then focus. Two more days. Less than forty eight hours. If I've made it through four years of trials and tribulations I sure can't let this last couple of days drag me down. However it's gone so far, I have the decision about how to act on these two, even if it's only a desperate decision to hurl everything I've got. Four and a half more hours in my exam hall and I'm finished.

Time for some tea, me thinks.

Miniature prosecco and absolute joy!

I won't beat around the bush: finals may be boring but finalists are more so. It may sound callous, it may sound unsympathetic - actually, it is. This term has, thus far, been intolerably dull as I am living in the strange twilight zone of a third year sans examens. All my friends have been following the French dictum of 'metro, boulot, dodo' (tube, work, sleep) except there isn't even the hint of 'metro' to ease the tedium of constant revision, just the quick walk to and from the library. Not only is summer term distinctly less fun without friends to muck around with, it is disconcerting to view veritable spectres of your future self, worn down by the stresses and strains of finals revision. The finals fear seems to be contagious for I feel a little apprehensive about my own. Yep, I'm actually nervous about those tests, you know, the ones a year from now.

However, today, the first of my friends completed their final final (if that makes any sense!) and I couldn't have been more pleased for her ... as well as a little gleeful for myself! After running around like a headless chicken trying to find a suitably hysterical card (merci, Edward Monkton) and a nice miniature bottle of rose prosecco (merci, Hotel Chocolat), I dashed over to the exam schools to greet mon amie (this post is becoming tres francais, n'est-ce pas?)

It soon became painfully clear that I needed to up my game. Cards and prosecco were clearly not enough. There were inflatable magnums of champagne, garlands of kaleidoscopic colours, vuvuzellas (no, I'm not sure how this instrument, which quite frankly sounds like a bee breaking wind, adds to the celebrations either), huge bouquets of flowers, confetti, silly string...  The list goes on. There were also covert tins of baked beans, bags of flour and boxes of eggs for the inevitable trashing (essentially where you besiege your friend with any edible substance to hand; the more disgusting, the better). However, being the goodie-two-shoes that I am, throwing food was clearly not an option. However, I refuse to be upstaged and so next time will be bringing all of the above AND a bubble blowing machine or something equally spectacular.

Frankie says relax ...

So, here we are again. It's the stress fest that is the beginning of term. You've just arrived, have barely unpacked and before you know it you're about to have a nervous meltdown about beginning of term tests, let alone when full term kicks in - overload of lectures, insane amounts of essays to write, huge charitable events to organise, trying to fit in new societies. Aaaand relax, because no matter what has gone before, this term is going to be different.

Last term, the stress got to me but now I refuse to let the expectations of others and the pressures of work affect my wellbeing and push me towards a lifestyle which is an unbalanced, not to mention an unhappy, one.

My plan (aside for power bikram yoga sessions on my new mat which I received from Best Friend for Christmas?) is to be inspired by a quote which mirrors my mentality.

The first one I found was from Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar: 'There must be quite a few things that a hot bath won't cure  but I don't know many of them.' Well, wise though she may be, this quote is simply unfortunate for I do not have a bath at university and 100 miles is rather a long trip to soothe away my troubles.

The next, located firmly in the classics, was from Ovid: 'Take a rest. The field that has rested gives a bountiful crop.' Firstly, I'm not a field and, secondly, I don't need to rest; I need motivation to work yet in an unstressed and zen like manner. Onwards and, hopefully, upwards.


My third quote is from Maureen Killoran,who quite frankly I do not know from Adam but whose advice is sage. "Stress is not what happens to us. It's our response TO what happens. And RESPONSE is something we can choose."

Tidings of comfort and joy

Yes, dear reader, I am bringing you tidings of comfort and joy of my lovely Christmas period which is now being completely sullied by horrid collections (as you can see, I'm revising hard).

The nightmare before Christmas:
Having rushed round the shops in near blizzard-esque conditions (sc. light dusting) I dashed over to Best Friend's dragging an oversized suitcase with me since I was staying the night before we headed off to Dublin for a couple of days with the girls. At least, this was the plan before RyanAir and snow conspired against us. We packed all our clothes into our liquid-free hand luggage and combined all the rest of our belongings into a giant suitcase of
a) make-up
b) alcohol
SO CHRISTMASSSYYY! But, alas and alack, we returned from a celebratory dinner to find that our marvellous plans had been ruined by the dastardly Ryanair who only deigned to inform us that flight was cancelled two hours after scheduled to arrive and even had the cheek to label their message 'urgent.' So, we slept a lot, exchanged birthday presents and trumped off back home again. NYE is definitely the new Dubs.

All I want for Christmas:
Is an internship. Seriously. Before Christmas, I almost landed the DREAM internship - charity+arts+glamourous location+big celebrity laden party to organise = a very excited bunny. I spent the entire day before hand trying on multiple corporate outfits before tottering off to the interview only to be told that our dates clashed. I couldn't have felt more disappointed (I think the word I'm actually looking for is bleugh) but have come to realise that not only was it a great experience but I also managed to sneak in a casual bit of networking. Score.

Joyeux Noel:
Lots of enjoyable little events made up my Christmas this year: going to see the Winter's Tale with the cousins, lovely carolling in the chapel, the big day before our very own version of a Winter's Tale: going to see our other cousins on boxing day who (almost a year and a half after moving in) still have no heating! Then more family and more bored games (sorry, I meant board games, honestly) before the FEAR set in. For those of your unaccustomed with the concept of the FEAR, it's what you need to get in the ZONE, which is where you want to be if you have high hopes for exams...Yeahhno, I'm not 100% on these buzz words either.

Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!