Crumpets are life.

*Sighs* More revision. A four hour exam tomorrow, although I've just found out, as it is technically two separate 2 hours exams smooshed together, we'll be getting a 15 minute break in the middle. Although no revision is allowed in this break, as it is technically still exam time. Right. Buuuuut, hilariously enough, I found out that as I have a 'medical condition' (God, I hate that term) I am allowed to ask for a break any time I want. I can't remember if the teacher said that if I get an (extra) break, every one else does too, or if I would just have to add the time on at the end. Either way, I never find myself needing a break. I finish with time to spare, so I do have the time to mentally panic that I can't remember the answer to something.

I have revised so bloody hard, I'm surprised that I'm not crapping revision. But that being said, I can't remember anything of use at the most vital time (I.e. In the actual exam.)

I have an appointment at the Dr's on the 5th February, and I honestly have been stuffing my face (Crumpets and treacle. Yuuuuuuuuum) so if I haven't gained the necessary 1kg or more, well, aside from being rather pissed off, will also be baffled. And the scales at home apparently don't work, so I can't check to see how much I weigh. Well, I say 'don't work', but I mean, 'are sitting in the bathroom, and I was going to check to see if they worked, but forgot.' Yes, that pretty much sums me up in a sentence. A memory of a pea, if you like.

Thankfully, I have no exams in the summer. Well, re-takes, but I don't bother with them. I always get the same results, so frankly, its simply a waste of the money you have to fork out to pay for the two pieces of paper.

P.S I changed my blog background again, thanks to Amy, as I got the link for the site off her blog :D 

Bugger.

Well. That is literally all I can say about yesterday's exam. I think I've found out what Hell is. Really. The second of turning over that damned piece of paper and trying to think of an answer before I've even started to process the first question, was a bit dim, admittedly. I know I got the occasional question right, others, as it turned out, I had either got completely wrong or mixed up with something else. The second freedom was granted from that exam room, everyone dove for their health and social care book, to check their answers, and as it turned out, I certainly deflated. Although, not much, as I never had high hopes for this exam, lest the examiner took pity on me and slipped me the answers. I wish.

Anyway, so I'm checking through the 'Unit 12: Human Development: Factors and Theories' and I realise that, hang on, they asked us stuff that wasn't in the book. This is odd, as the exams are freaking BASED ON THE BOOK! So I found that annoying. How the hell can I pass an exam when they ask you stuff there's no chance you could have revised? They're plotting against us. They must be. Well, bugger it; I'm getting into college one way or another. I can focus on my other (4 bloody hour) exam, my coursework and my art work, to try and get better marks.

If I either get the same or better overall grades for my subjects as last year, then I'm free and clear to be able to do the photography course I want, at the college I want. Providing I get a place that is. The majority of students have found out about their offers, and we're even past the deadline for sending in applications and applying to offers.

Unless you're a 'route B' student (In other words, art student. We have to wait just that little bit longer, as when you're applying for an art course, you’re just not that special.) In which case, my application is ready and waiting to be sent in February, and I'll find out if the college offers me a place then. They better bloody had though, as I only applied to one. It sounds silly, but as they've got two identical courses, if one is full up, they can always offer a place to the other one, and all's fine and dandy, as I'll be doing exactly the same thing. Just probably one classroom down.

On funny note, my Dr at the Ear, Nose and Throat dept, which I have to go to every 6 months or so due to my crap hearing, decided, that as there's also a hearing dept in the Hexham hospital, which happens to be the same Hexham in which I go to school in (QEHS, eat your heart out.) I should start going to the Hexham dept instead, to avoid having to go to the Newcastle one. Ahaha, you may think 'Ah, this Dr is trying to make things easier then?' No. She clearly said, that she'll see about moving me to the Hexham ENT dept. AFTER I finish school, in the summer. Which means, AFTER I have finished my A-levels, and will no longer need to go to Hexham other than to see my sister, my friends, and to go to the odd party. She knows full well that I'm applying to go to college in Newcastle, and the course I'm after starts in Sept (There was a really weird moment, when I first went into the office, when she took this horribly intense interest in my current A-levels and applying to college.) So why is she determined to make it difficult by putting an unnecessary 45 minute drive between college and a hospital appointment? It could be all done and dusted within an hour (providing on the waiting times) if she will keep me at the Newcastle ENT, rather than cut a possible 3 hours, or more, from a day that would be much happily spent doing photography. She probably doesn't like me. I don't care to be honest. I've never had much sympathy for a Doctor's or nurse's opinion of me. They have to treat me. I didn't ask for these things to happen to me. If they don't like it, well dearest, it seems you're in the wrong profession.

Now, I have to go back to see the Doctor in 3 months, so I will truly let her know about her 'idea'. That it's clearly taking the piss. And then some.

Lovely blog award.

Thanks to Heidi who tagged me to recieve this nifty little pic, the 'lovely blog' award...

Cute, isn't it! So, you have to choose four bloggy friends to give it to so... trying not to choose the same people I chose for the photo tag (I'm really getting into the loop of these blog games!) I choose... Hmmm, lets see...

Amy

Mossie

Jess

Piper

Well, every girl needs a flower or two on her blog right?!

Mid-week meltdown.

A-Levels. One of the things that exam boards should be hung, drawn and quartered for. Next Monday I have my first of two A2 level exams for January (obviously I'll have a couple more in June.) Anyway, yep, I know all A Level exams are pretty nasty, but Health and Social Care exams, frankly, take the piss. They are the most impossible exams I've ever taken, and on average I get an E on those exams. Crap, yeah I know that too. Although my coursework is supposedly quite good, which means exams are my Achilles heel but my overall grade for the subject is somewhere in the middle, as good coursework plus crap exams equals a totally unfair grade - some people get astronomical results, but sometimes that's just down to the chance of a fuck easy exam. Which I doubt I'll be getting on Monday.

Me, avoiding revision, and courtesy of a friend who took this pic with my new camera, as they just couldn't seem to get enough of it. I didn't even realise they were taking this pic until the flash went off and nearly blinded me. I love that camera!

Back to where I started. Monday's exam. The unit for H+S C is called Child Development: Factors and Theories, which means for the past few months, we've been studying crap on people like Freud and Piaget who had all sorts of warped ideas about stages and stuff that babies go through. As for Freud, he's more twisted than you think. He had some pretty disturbing theories involving the words 'oral' 'anal' and 'phallic'. I think I can happily leave you with those images. Plus, bear in mind we're talking about child development. Eugh.

So this exam is the most impossible of all impossible exams, and I am seriously finding it impossible to remember anything remotely helpful. As part of revision, we go through past exam papers and use them as mocks, and all I know is this: I am sooooooo gonna fail. It always happens - whether I reckon I've revised so much, there's no way I've answered anything too badly, or whether I inwardly scream at the text book, the second I walk into the hall with all those evil little tables that wobble when you write, I forget anything of any use, and spend the remainder of the hour (or two in Monday's case. Don't get me started on Tuesday after next four hour exam. Suffice to say, they thought they'd get cocky, and put two separate H+S C exam units together. Bastards) with some sodding song in my head, which I will inevitably repeat, for what feels like years.

I actually like those songs. I especially like the song 'Ruby' by Kaiser Chiefs, as the 3rd line in the first verse, for me, is totally apt. For those of you who have no idea who I'm on about (Seriously, everyone has heard of 'Ruby' though) it goes 'There is nothing I need, except the function to breathe...' I just love it.

Slightly random, totally bonkers.

Ok, so I promised a list of 6 reasons of why I'm practically insane. Although others would probably just say these things make me, well, me. So, if we're getting technical now, here's a list of completely random things about me, which basically define me.

1. I give off the worst first impressions. This is mainly due to the fact I can't really understand people, and when they first meet me, they don't know I'm deaf, so they warble away, and I either just smile and nod (so when they ask a question I look a complete prat and like I'm not interested. Which ain't good.) Or totally get distracted and wander off, so they think I don't like them. It's a dog eat dog world that's pretty hard to win in.

2. My laugh. I sound weird. Plus when I start laughing randomly at something, especially if its really funny (If I'm watching 'Live at the Apollo', be warned). But sometimes I will laugh for ages, at the most random thing, whilst people look like they're thinking 'Right, you keep her busy, I'll get a big net.'

3. That damn scar across my stomach from the operation I had at 1 day old. I forget the name of the operation. Its all official and everything, and a wonderful long name with bits of Latin thrown about in it, but too long for me to remember. Obviously. Either way, I can't pronounce it anyway. As I was saying, that scar that goes all across from one side of my stomach to the other, and is just above my belly button, makes it look like I've got a 'spare tyre', which is ridiculous. I'm not boasting here, but I don't exactly have much meat on me, but the little I do have just sits really badly around that scar. Its stupid really. Although It never used to look much like that as when I was 11 I got my first feeding tube (down my nose, classy!) I bearly weighed anything. So the fact I do actually have weight on me is a good thing.

4. The fact that I only realised that I love photography whilst at a photo shoot. Yes, before that I did like it, but never considered it as a job. I never thought about what I'd like to do in college yet alone as a job, but now, I'm applying to college for a 2 year photography course and I've got my camera. My dream job as a kid was a hairdresser. Somehow, spitting hair out all day doesn't appeal to me anymore.

5. The fact that I talk really really fast, yet I need people to talk slower to me so I can understand them (and I still don't.) I talk relatively fast to the point of not even being able to pronounce words properly, and getting tongue twisted. Its irritating and I can't speak slower even if you paid me. I also don't make much sense.

6. I have a total of 9 scars, soon to be 10. The first 3 are on my forehead, from me and my daredevil years (When I was 3, although they're all from separate incidents). Number 4 is on my chin, involving a stupid moment in the swimming baths where I slipped off the edge and cracked my chin off the side. Number 5, 6, 7 and 8 are from Port-a-caths. I'm onto port-a-cath number 3 now, as number one, when I was 11, conked out after 3 months. Number 2 lasted 5 years, and number 3 is slightly bigger and more noticeable. Apparently it's all down to the surgeon you get, but this one gave me a port with the tube in my neck, which you can always see. Strain your neck, and you'll see the muscles that stick out. Now imagine that all the time, as part of my port. Lovely. Two of the scars are on my neck, either side, and two are next to my shoulders, either side. (I don't see why they couldn't just keep all three on one side. I have an extra 2 scars all because the surgeon prefered to work on the other side.) Scar number 9 is the one that goes all across my stomach, and soon-to-be scar number 10 is where my current feeding tube (or 'button' apparently) is. Apparently the scar looks like a belly button. Weird.

Bits and bats.

I'm sick of coughing, sick of getting weird looks from coughing myself half mad, and sick of people who don't understand CF. No, this isn't another jab at my mates. I think I'm really due some IVs soon, I'm coughing ridiculously.

I'm also sick of that damn rattle in my lungs. More specifically, the side of my right lung. If I put my hand there when there's a rattle, I can feel it. It practically does feel like a toy rattle. Its times like this when you think 'How much more ill can I get? How much more do I have to endure before I'm cast as pretty ill?'

I hate the fact that I sound like a complete and utter depressed kid. I'm not. I guess this is a pretty good place to say the things that are always in your head, without someone interrupting. I've just read about a CFer with FEV in the 100%s, and they're about 20/30 years old. WHAT? I'm only 17, and the best FEV I can get is 80%. On average its 60-70%. When its bad, it gets to 50%. I know that's not the end of the world but it still worries me. Its just like when I got my GCSE results. I know I'm not the brightest crayon in the box, but I was happy with my average results, I felt I'd done my best. Then I found out that so many people had gotten all A's or A*s on their results, almost effortlessly, and it just made my results seem so inferior. I hate comparing my life to someone's whose is better, yet its inevitable sometimes. Guess it's just something to work on. And to stop looking over people's shoulder's when they're writing their A Level and GCSE results on their college applications.