Recreating scenes from your favourite movies

I am so in love with my lecturer it's slightly ridiculous.

Every now and then I would catch myself, chin resting on hand, throwing adoring gazes in his direction and realise... You're looking at him like you love him. You're one of those girls from Indiana Jones' class with 'I Love You' written on your eyelids.

Stop.
It.

I was even moved to speak up in class. Like, a lot. THAT'S the power of love right there. I want to impress him and for him to realise what a stunning intellect I have and for us to have long red-wine fuelled discussions on the nature of reality and whether our view of the world is what actually exists or just a subjective construct that is filtered through our language, and historical and cultural backgrounds. And stuff.

And he got passionate talking about how shite the Daily Mail is. And he was talking about this book and said it had changed the way he views the world. THIS is what I signed up for, THIS is the university experience promised to me by Saved By the Bell: The College Years. Getting inspired by intelligent, attractive men.

Ugh. Look at me I'm gushing. I don't gush. (I so totally do).

I know I do this. I fall in love every week with a different one and then talk about them incessently but still. I can't help it. I am a girl. It's what we do. (And by 'we' I mean 'me').

Plus, I got a first for an essay I did in the module that caused me the most headaches last semester. (An essay that was 'fascinating and beautifully written'. This from the man that told me I don't 'fizz with enough energy' to be a successful writer. SUCK IT BITCH. To be fair I did write it all about me and me is my favourite subject). I would come home from those lectures with adrenaline coursing through my veins and fired up with righteous anger because OH MY GOD people can be dumb. And learning about 'positive psychology' is basically like being strapped down and forced to watch 20 hours of Dr Phil with matchsticks propping open your unwilling eyes.

Not good basically.

But today? Today was good.

But then but then there's the little matter of this FREAKING GOD DAMNED dissertation. From today I have 5 days left to get the draft done and another two weeks after that for the final thing to be handed in. Thats three weeks. T-H-R-E-E W-E-E-K-S. I'll get it done. I always get these things done. If it means having four hours sleep for the next 19 nights I'll get it done. But it's the doing it you know? The doing it when there's TV to watch, Crash Bandicoot to play, books by the person you ('I') would be if you ('I') were a gay man to read. That sort of thing. Things I enjoy more than considering whether I need to apply Bonferoni's Correction to my data and how exactly to do a multivariate ANOVA test (I don't even know what half these things actually mean).