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My mood is currently Depressed (as of the time I wrote this, anyway - I've calmed down a fair amount now). Look at the little mood icon. Watch it cry. Then read on.
The actual interviewy stuff itself went pretty much perfectly. The subject interview problems were pathetically easy. I don't know how the admissions tutor one went; it depends what he feels about being caught totally flat-footed, twice. The first time it was because I have CCHS and Braintree College down, and he couldn't work out what order I'd attended them in or basically what was going on there. The second, because they screwed up the information at the open day.
I. Have. To. Take. STEP. And that's II and III I mean. And y'know what: if I was only taking Single Maths, I'd only have to do STEP I. (Absolutely *no* laughing at the back there, Naath.) I want to kill something. Preferably something concerning the admissions staff at Churchill.
Apparently this is the second year they're asking for STEP, because the first year they asked for it turned out so well. So the second set of people that must die are the ones who didn't deliberately mess up their exam results as protest against being asked for STEP grades.
I also keep wanting to loudly proclaim various not-particularly-inventive curses involving, for instance, broom handles. (Presumably of the roughly-hewn variety.) But I don't think that would be particularly productive.
The worst bit is, I don't even know if I really want to do their course any more... I'm beginning to detest certain areas of Mathmatics with a passion, and I'm not particularly enamoured of the idea of spending yet another year fighting with them. (Of course, most compsci courses are going to have *some*, but I think I can put up with *some*, or at least I'm going to have to.) But I want the *other* things at Cambridge, like lots of highly intelligent people and Poohsoc and CURS and CICCU... and it's, like, a place I know. So it isn't as scary. But the maths is scary.
And because I don't even know if I *got* an offer until January (because the very best thing that could happen to me at this point is that I get rejected by them, so that I don't have to make any decisions, I don't feel that I could always have worked harder and driven myself further into the ground and got there and life would have been all wonderful from there on in, I can just shrug and say 'luck of the draw' and stop *worrying*. People quoting Bible verses at me about not worrying are in danger of being shot, or at least yelled at in a most incoherant fashion. I *know* all of that. It doesn't help right now.)
Having said that, I do need to do something about all this stressing before I explode. (It doesn't help that I feel increadibly selfish for whining, given that the most positive thing I do is apparently be there for people, which whining at them and expecting them to rally round kind of negates, really.)
The actual interviewy stuff itself went pretty much perfectly. The subject interview problems were pathetically easy. I don't know how the admissions tutor one went; it depends what he feels about being caught totally flat-footed, twice. The first time it was because I have CCHS and Braintree College down, and he couldn't work out what order I'd attended them in or basically what was going on there. The second, because they screwed up the information at the open day.
I. Have. To. Take. STEP. And that's II and III I mean. And y'know what: if I was only taking Single Maths, I'd only have to do STEP I. (Absolutely *no* laughing at the back there, Naath.) I want to kill something. Preferably something concerning the admissions staff at Churchill.
Apparently this is the second year they're asking for STEP, because the first year they asked for it turned out so well. So the second set of people that must die are the ones who didn't deliberately mess up their exam results as protest against being asked for STEP grades.
I also keep wanting to loudly proclaim various not-particularly-inventive curses involving, for instance, broom handles. (Presumably of the roughly-hewn variety.) But I don't think that would be particularly productive.
The worst bit is, I don't even know if I really want to do their course any more... I'm beginning to detest certain areas of Mathmatics with a passion, and I'm not particularly enamoured of the idea of spending yet another year fighting with them. (Of course, most compsci courses are going to have *some*, but I think I can put up with *some*, or at least I'm going to have to.) But I want the *other* things at Cambridge, like lots of highly intelligent people and Poohsoc and CURS and CICCU... and it's, like, a place I know. So it isn't as scary. But the maths is scary.
And because I don't even know if I *got* an offer until January (because the very best thing that could happen to me at this point is that I get rejected by them, so that I don't have to make any decisions, I don't feel that I could always have worked harder and driven myself further into the ground and got there and life would have been all wonderful from there on in, I can just shrug and say 'luck of the draw' and stop *worrying*. People quoting Bible verses at me about not worrying are in danger of being shot, or at least yelled at in a most incoherant fashion. I *know* all of that. It doesn't help right now.)
Having said that, I do need to do something about all this stressing before I explode. (It doesn't help that I feel increadibly selfish for whining, given that the most positive thing I do is apparently be there for people, which whining at them and expecting them to rally round kind of negates, really.)
Re: Eh?
Date: 2002-12-03 12:15 pm (UTC)From:Right.
Fin, Neil was trying to make a joke, in the style of Poohsoc. (Technically, he ought to have known you wouldn't see it as a joke, given that you already said you didn't know about Poohsoc.) He wasn't saying you shouldn't be at Poohsoc to be mean; he was saying he would be surprised if Poohsoc was in America because it's in Cambridge, and it would have had to move a long way, and he probably wouldn't be able to get to America to go to it. (i.e. taking something very slightly different than what you'd said, and taking it too literally. Ick, this is starting to sound like the *last* thing I attempted to explain to you, and we all know how badly *that* worked.)
Neil, didn't I tell you to drop this, and that it wasn't worth explaining because it would just raise the temperature? Maybe you should, you know, listen to me occasionally? Especially given this is my journal, and I knew how difficult it would be to try and explain what you actually *meant* and the spirit in which you said it to Fin?
I'm beginning to think it might be wise for me to propose we delete/screen this entire mess of misunderstanding and pretend it didn't happen. Anyone want to second that?