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Sep. 13th, 2005 07:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hathycolMother has spent much of the day howling "A VASE????!!!" ever since she saw ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
loneraven's list. It's official. University has broken my families collective brain.
It probably didn't help that I spent today feeling veru snuffly as I listening to the Gladiator soundtrack and put away all of my school stuff. All my notes from A-Level are in the loft now. Seven lever arch folders (the nature of media meant I only needed one for two years) should, supposedly, sum up my total years of college education. I thought they did, too, as all of my notes are neat and ordered. I have past papers tucked away in the back, neatly marked. Coursework slips in the front. Once I'd taken everything down off that shelf though, I found everything else I associated with my academic career thus far. I had my RADA certificate from the year before last - I have a 'delightful accent that only somewhat gets in the way' and my actions were 'beautifully executed, albeit (perforce) limited'. I remember having to get a dictionary for that one. I was a good Katarina, though, and I may take a looksee at some drama while I'm at uni. Well, maybe. I found the college magazine that I wrote for last year; even an old school magazine from Back In The Day. Old photos from old school trips. Leaver's Books. Old homework diaries.
I've kept them all in the little drawer I keep most of my memories in.
It's... it's incredibly sad, I think. I have so many memories locked up into my cosy little room. It's intrinsically me, that room. It's covered in posters, it has my bean bag (which I think I should leave behind) and my bed and my notice board. My notice board is an entity in itself, with some important stuff tacked up, political cartoons that I liked from the Independent, postcards (mostly fromshipperkitten as she goes to dramatic places with pretty pictures) and even my old school tie. My mirror is the same - hardly any space to see myself in, but one photo from every Collectormania, me with Suanne Braun (neepsquee), a sticker solemnly declaring "Have you hugged your potions master today?" and that weird Hobbit picture with Liz.
The time, I think, is near to make some new memories. I wrote a rather bad piece of fanfiction which I am constantly revising in the shy hope to put it all online One Day (although, y'know, three years on the thing and still no closer), but the ending was from when my writing improved, I think.
"Don't be foolish," she said with a faint grin. "Of course this isn't the end. It's merely another beginning."
That was the final line (sequel undergoing similar treatment) and it's still relevant, even though it was written two years ago. Yes, this is all the end of a wonderful and magical section of my life, one which I will look back on with (mostly) fondness. But I'm off to make some new memories, so that in four years I'll be looking around sadly with old photos and diaries and notes and I'll be thinking the same thing. I have to keep on telling myself that otherwise I will actually melt into a little puddle of misery and that is not the image I want to get across in time for university.
As you may be able to tell, I'm suddenly feeling a little delicate. Off to the pub, where I am going to firmly not drink gin. It makes me cry at the best of times. Also, I don't actually like gin.
~Hathy_Col~
loneraven's list. It's official. University has broken my families collective brain.It probably didn't help that I spent today feeling veru snuffly as I listening to the Gladiator soundtrack and put away all of my school stuff. All my notes from A-Level are in the loft now. Seven lever arch folders (the nature of media meant I only needed one for two years) should, supposedly, sum up my total years of college education. I thought they did, too, as all of my notes are neat and ordered. I have past papers tucked away in the back, neatly marked. Coursework slips in the front. Once I'd taken everything down off that shelf though, I found everything else I associated with my academic career thus far. I had my RADA certificate from the year before last - I have a 'delightful accent that only somewhat gets in the way' and my actions were 'beautifully executed, albeit (perforce) limited'. I remember having to get a dictionary for that one. I was a good Katarina, though, and I may take a looksee at some drama while I'm at uni. Well, maybe. I found the college magazine that I wrote for last year; even an old school magazine from Back In The Day. Old photos from old school trips. Leaver's Books. Old homework diaries.
I've kept them all in the little drawer I keep most of my memories in.
It's... it's incredibly sad, I think. I have so many memories locked up into my cosy little room. It's intrinsically me, that room. It's covered in posters, it has my bean bag (which I think I should leave behind) and my bed and my notice board. My notice board is an entity in itself, with some important stuff tacked up, political cartoons that I liked from the Independent, postcards (mostly from
shipperkitten as she goes to dramatic places with pretty pictures) and even my old school tie. My mirror is the same - hardly any space to see myself in, but one photo from every Collectormania, me with Suanne Braun (neepsquee), a sticker solemnly declaring "Have you hugged your potions master today?" and that weird Hobbit picture with Liz.The time, I think, is near to make some new memories. I wrote a rather bad piece of fanfiction which I am constantly revising in the shy hope to put it all online One Day (although, y'know, three years on the thing and still no closer), but the ending was from when my writing improved, I think.
"Don't be foolish," she said with a faint grin. "Of course this isn't the end. It's merely another beginning."
That was the final line (sequel undergoing similar treatment) and it's still relevant, even though it was written two years ago. Yes, this is all the end of a wonderful and magical section of my life, one which I will look back on with (mostly) fondness. But I'm off to make some new memories, so that in four years I'll be looking around sadly with old photos and diaries and notes and I'll be thinking the same thing. I have to keep on telling myself that otherwise I will actually melt into a little puddle of misery and that is not the image I want to get across in time for university.
As you may be able to tell, I'm suddenly feeling a little delicate. Off to the pub, where I am going to firmly not drink gin. It makes me cry at the best of times. Also, I don't actually like gin.
~Hathy_Col~
