This time last year, I had just recieved my jct results. They were alright. Not bad, but not fantastic either.
This time last year, I spent more time with mp10 then I did with family. Not because they just happened to be there, but because they were there. More comfort and support to me than they'd every guess.
This time last year, I was struggling to start on my personal statement for the UCAS application. And fretting about whether I should apply for Cambridge or not.
This time last year, music had faded into a painful, throbbing memory of 'I wish I could'.
This time last year, I told myself I don't want to do anything but teach.
This time last year, I couldn't imagine life without the people I was with. Or life after the As. Or drawing my own salary and spending my own money.
Now, I've just finished marking jct papers. And am writing reports. And am comforting distressed year ones (and twos, who probably have more to be distressed about).
Now, I spend most of my week with family. And it feels good. mp10 has, as all groups of friends do, dispersed; some into relative oblivion (or tekong), some into relative reclusiveness, and some only for a couple of weeks at a time, before demanding they see you again (hello sy =)).
Now, I'm trying to find a date for my visa application. And am coming up with a to bring list. And fretting about whether I'll be able to get a ticket through the ballot. And just remembered I may not have posted my accomodation application, eek.
Now, I'm in a band that's family. Am missing a band that's also family, albeit younger (you are, you know.) And have a gig, and potentially more, tomorrow.
Now, I still want to teach. But I want to act too. And dance. And LEARN.
Now, I still can't imagine life without the people I'm with. But I won't have to be imagining in about 10 weeks. Life after the As has been more than I could ask for. And I'm beginning to see the need to budget. Heh.
Time flies, doesn't it. I was talking to alice and totsy yesterday, trying to find a day to go out. And I said my July's packed, and so's the beginning of August. The end of August will be a flurry of marking and giving back papers. And then it's September. And they said yes. And then it's September. And in both windows there was a brief silence. And then: yeah. Yeah. then it's September. And once it's September, the days will fly by. And then that brief silence again.
And I'm torn between amusement at the sentimentality (from guys who claim rebel status/complete uniqueness), annoyance at the sentimentality (it's only 8 weeks!), and sentimentality itself.