Dreams of the not-so-distant-future

Today is the last day of August. Therefore if I do not blog today, I will only have blogged twice in the whole month, and that, even for me, is truly shameful. So join me on this quest to fill my small allotment in cyberspace with more of my useless nonsense and bewildering anecdotes.

Which reminds me.

I had a dream the other night. And it sticks in my mind because, unlike most of my dreams, it was shockingly normal. It almost could have happened in real life. Basically, in my dream, I was sat in Costa (See? Costa! Not a siberian brothel, or the inside of an elephants anus. Utterly, bizarrely normal) talking to a friend who is about to bugger off to uni for the best years of his life. He wasn't very exited though. In fact, he said he was really nervous about making friends, and asked me for a few good conversation starters to use at freshers week. After rejecting my best ones ('Fancy a shag? Go oon, it won't take long' and the ever sucessful 'Like me, please like me, oh god why won't you like me?!') I lost my patience and asked him what the hell he was so nervous about. He looked at me like I was a twat in a furry cowboy hat. Which, to be fair, was half right.

'I'm going to UNI. I know nobody. No one knows me. No one knows each other. I've reached the top of grownupiness, yeah? But basically, we're all a bunch of clueless teenagers who are gunna be stuck together in a bunch of rooms sharing a kitchen and all trying to pretend we're grown up, when actually we all really really miss having our mums wash our socks. And more to the point, what if we don't like each other? Theres no going back now. I spent ages filling out that bloody UCAS form. And my mum would kill me if I backed out now, kill me like a bug. And then refuse to wash my socks.'

I looked at him blankly for a second, then told him (in what I like to think was a sympathetic manner) to stop being such a pussy and pack his socks. Shortly after, I woke up, marvelled at the normalness of my dream, and fell back to sleep only to have a nightmare involving train-jacking carrots.

The dream did get me thinking though. In one year, if all goes well in the results and financial departments, I too will be buggering off to uni. I have looked forward to this ever since I understood the concept of uni (the concept being there are no parents and no one really gives a shit if you skip lectures). It is, to all teenagers who managed to scrape the results for sixth form, the shimmering dream on the horizon of shite that gets us through A levels, parental screaming, teachers nagging and the all round annoyance of not being quite 18. University is freedom.
But!
What if you get to freedom and it turns out to actually be a little bit wank? What if you have to share a bathroom with a posh girl who moans about missing her cat, and it rains all the time, and you have no money for booze? What if you start your course and realise it actually isnt what you want to do with your life? What if run out of money for accomodation half way through your second year and have to give up and go home?

Of course, I don't really expect any of this to happen. In my mind, university will be fucking great no matter what because i'll be truly doing my own thing for the first time ever. And if I have to share a bathroom with an upper-class cat-lover and take out loans i'll need to leave the country to escape then so be it. But nevertheless, the dream has made me start looking at university a bit more realistically (i.e. not as a giant 3 year party/solver of all my problems) which I suppose can only be a good thing.

Plus, I have to get in there first. Hmmm.

Results and Robots. And Waitrose.

I have been offered a job at Waitrose. This surprises me a bit, partly because it is neither the position nor hours that I applied for, and partly because the group interview I was made to attend was one of the single most baffling experiences of my life, and I was fairly sure I had exposed myself as a bumbling incoherent nincompoop in said interview. I mean, I was made to 'sell' a pot of spanish saffron to my interviewer and the rest of the group. It went something like 'Er, well this saffron is Spanish *long pause* And its made in Spain! So really Spanish, you know, not anything from um.. China. Or Taiwan. These days you get a lot of artificial... overseas... and um, mass produced. Or something *second long pause* Also its recycleable!'

Well ok, it was a bit better than that, because I threw some posh words around. But you get the idea. I also had to give a presentation on myself, and we had to do a bunch of 'team exercises' which involved making posters and getting in line according to date of birth etc. and watch an extremely happy (bordering on brainwashingesque) Waitrose promotional dvd, starring a fat man with the scary enthusiasm of a cult leader and the bald shiny head of a skin-coloured bowling ball. And the attractive too-small green shirt of the waitrose corporation.

But anyway, i'm happy I got the job even if the hours are a bit shitty. It means I can FINALLY leave waitressing! FOREVER! And soon hopefully, before they realise that they keep accidentally paying me for one hour more than i'm owed, or discover CCTV footage of me secretly eating their biscuits behind the shelf in the pot room. Or more to the point, actually notice how phenomenally shit I am everything waitress-inspired, fire me, and call every shop in town to warn them about me.

In other news, I got my AS level results a couple of days ago. All Bs. I was actually thrilled with this - the voice of doom in my head had been telling me for a long time that I had definately failed psychology, and i'd been having some quite disturbing dreams about recieving my results. These dreams ranged from your simple get-to-school-and-find-out-you've-failed-everything dream, to one in which I got all As, but a large hamster in a beret (that was for some reason my brothers new pet) ate my results and no one would believe I'd passed. Consequently I had to sit my exams again under the supervision of large chrome robots who kept stealing my pen and laughing at me. Robots can be very cruel. Then I was sent to work at the new sainsburys that had opened up next door to school, because all the distractions had ruined my career prospects and rendered me incapable of doing anything other than bagging groceries in a shell-shocked manner.




But everyone has wired dreams like that right??

Pimp or gay wizard?

This morning, my younger brother came up to me wearing my fluffy pink dressing gown.

'I think I look like a pimp. Mum says I look like a gay wizard' he told me folornly

Then he walked off.




I don't know why i'm even surprised.