I fail at life.

If you know me in real life (or if you’re Orla), you’ll know that it takes a lot to make cry. Sometimes I’ll say “Awww that makes me want to cry!” if I feel really emotional, but no actual human tears will come. I reserve these for the death of a beloved pet, or stubbing my toe.

But right now, I’m crying. In frustration, I think. I just feel like I’m struggling with everything at the moment and I’m not very good at dealing with stress.

When we were Freshers I remember third year students really dwelling on how important it was to enjoy ourselves then, because come final year we wouldn’t be able to see the light of day. Of course we didn’t take a blind bit of notice and just carried on applying our neon eye shadow. But now I see what they mean.

I’m in week 4 of third year now. As well as the usual reading (because with English Literature there’s kind of A LOT of reading. Who knew?) - two plays and lots of poetry per week, along with dissertation novels, and critical reading for all three modules - this is on it’s way:

Week 6 - Dissertation report.

Week 7 - Two 3,500 word essays to be handed in on the same day. One on Modern American Drama (which I love), one on Contemporary Poetry (which makes me want to hack my own head off with a steak knife).

Week 8 - Dissertation oral presentation. Public speaking not my forte. Neither are over head projectors and flippy chart things. And the line “The floor is open for questioning” sets me all aquiver already.

I’ve been trying to go into the school as much as I can to organise myself for the PGCE application. I’m really grateful for this, and the English teacher whose lessons I’m sitting in on is absolutely lovely and has gone above and beyond to help me. It does take up time though.

Plus work starts again in November. I can’t wait for the smell of sweet sweet money (another ma-jah issue; where does it all go?) but again - not enough hours in the day.

And then there’s my driving. I suck at driving. I failed my first mock test because I was watching a squirrel run up someone’s drive and may have possibly (definitely) knocked a stationary car’s wing mirror. I hate driving. "Do you WANT to be able to drive Amy?" - "Yes. But I also WANT to marry Russell Brand. Doesn’t make me Katy Perry, does it?"

I’m having trouble keeping my head above water to be honest. It’s making me really cranky and then I feel bad for getting pissed off at perfectly nice people. I feel like I’m letting people down at every turn, whether it be friends, family, tutors… And I can’t even turn to my beloved chocolate for solace because I’m sick of feeling like Susan facking Boyle and want to shift my cake shelf (like a muffin top but x10) pronto.

I sound like such a self-pitying little knob shite, so I’m sorry. It’s not as if I’m the only person in the world who’s got a lot on. I know there’s people a lot worse off than me. And I know there’s plenty of people who’d give their right arm to go to Uni but can’t now due to Wacko Camo. So again, sorry. Hope no one reads all of this, because I sound like a whimpering little girl. I’m off to grow a pair. And do some shit. Will be back when I’m less of a basket case.

Muchos love x

101 days to New York…. #onlythingkeepingmegoing