...E quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle.

So, almost 1 year on, it turns out I failed at following through my blog posts whilst doing finals, but, luckily I didn't fail my finals themselves- pheeeew!

The rest of the year followed a rather similar trend to the start to be honest although there were lots of highlights in there, like Torpids - which was incredibly fun - and my birthday. I got into the swing of things with the studying and in the end I got into quite a routine. By the end of Hilary term the library had become my second home and I stayed there until about 10pm every night, forgetting what a social life was for a while. I only went home for about 1 week in Easter and worked in Oxford throughout the vacation, hopping from one library to another, one more beautiful than the next. I even ventured into the Radcliffe Camera a few times, when I needed to go to a sacred place of wisdom for some extra inspiration. As exams drew closer, the pressure definitely started to hit and I did have a few serious wobbles, but I kept thinking about the end, and what would follow after. 

When the exams actually started the real nightmare began. I had always imagined that once I had got one down I would just get into a rhythm and it would just fly bye. How wrong I was. After the first day of exams I was convinced I had already failed. I couldn't sleep or stop thinking about it and tormenting myself with it. I kept going through what had been asked and what I had written, trying to estimate if I might have managed to scrape a pass or not. I thought about it so much that by the end I couldn't even remember what I had written anymore. This made it very difficult to focus on the next exam and to keep going. The thought of rusticating even crossed my mind, until I decided I would rather fail and move on than have to go through another year like this. Plus there was always the tiny possibility that it maybe hadn't gone quite as badly as I had thought and I might have actually passed. Two weeks went on like this. Some exams I did feel better about, but by the end I had to learn not to think about them anymore once they were done as that only ever lead to a spiral of despair and self-doubt. After one week of exams some of my friends had already finished, I had to go and trash them and then cycle back to the library. I could smell the end, the freedom, the festivities. It was all so close and yet so far. 

On the day of my final exam I couldn't even bring myself to eat anything. I couldn't waste any time as there was so little left I didn't want to regret having wasted any of it. I went to the little room in the library where I had set up camp in the final days, with my red carnation perched on the desk. I flicked through all of my files over and over. Dante Alighieri's Divine Comedy was my final paper; the story of a journey of ascent from the depths of hell to a vision of God in heaven. It was so fitting, it felt like there was a touch of fate on this pivotal moment in my life. 

I came out of the exam, and felt like I was being realised from some mixed up reality TV show, knowing my family and friends, were waiting for me on the outside. All of the italianists walked out together like a band of brothers, each one only to aware of the great sense of importance about this moment. Everything went into a kind of slow motion as we slowly staggered out of the dark exams room and into the sunshine outside towards to crowds. Then everything sped up again and it was truly euphoric. 

Those post-finals months were amazing. There were parties and nights out and walks in the park, days-out and dinners and guilt-free TV catch-ups! We even had the Queen's Ball to top it all off. It was just an absolute dream - just like heaven. It all payed off and we enjoyed the freedom all the more, knowing we had worked so hard for it. At the same time, the dark cloud of results was still left hanging over us for the first month. It was hard to talk to tutors without feeling slightly nervous or embarrassed that you may have failed their paper. The worst was the not knowing when they were coming....

Caption: "I didn't even see Ulysshhheeeeesss...." "ALLEGORY!!!" "*george's hysterical laughter*"

2nd Week: the crash and fall.

It's funny how things can be going so well and then in a moment it can all change and your whole perspective can flip upside down. This week was a marking point for one of these moments of shift.

Everything was fine, I was plodding along with the rhythm of things pretty well, rowing, working, rowing, working. And then it snowed. It's always odd when it snows after christmas, you can't quite help but start singing songs like "its beginning to look a lot like Christmas", or "walking in a winter wonderland", which you were sure you wouldn't be singing for at least 10 months! Anyway, despite usually loving snow, this time I didn't appreciate it. There is nothing worse than having a garden full of snow and no time to play in it- I can tell you! Not to mention the traumas of cycling in the snow, it's potentially blinding and certainly not fun. Walking on ice is no easier either. Snow is great, so long as you have no where to get to, and people to play with. This was not the case. I fought through it though and eventually the snow cleared, which meant I could once again cycle with confidence. Or so I thought. It turns out its never OK to get complacent with cycling.
On Friday morning, with that 'almost the end of the week' determination and anticipation, in jumped on my bike and flew off to my prose class, five minutes late. I took a corner wide, and, bam, slammed into the side of an oncoming car. Having an accident is never nice, but knowing its entirely your fault is even worse. I picked myself up and rushed to the car. Luckily the old man driving was unharmed, and dealt with it surprisingly well with a sigh, a shake of the head and a "for god's sake drive on the right side of the road." I hurried off to my lesson and slipped into the class which had already started. Then my body started to tremble and I could feel the adrenaline seeping through my veins. I tried to hold it together, and then when I got out and finally spoke to my friends I realised I was more affected by it then I had first thought. I wasn't physically hurt, but the possibilities of how much worse it could have been left me shaken up.
On the plus side, when I told my dad about it he decided to come and see me and he brought my guitar! It's amazing how much seeing him cheered me up and made me feel so reassured. I think as we grow up we sometimes forget how important our parents still are to us, and often they don't realise how much we still need them either.

It's so easy to get wrapped up in your own little world with your own little worries and sometimes it takes an accident like this to remind us that that is just what they are -  little - not so important in the grand scheme of things. When we look back at life we won't even remember them. Basically, it's better to be late but alive, than to never arrive at all. I'll bear that in mind next time I jump on my bike in a hurry.

1st Week - Back in the bubble, back in the boat, back in the blogging.

First week was surprisingly fun. I seem to have quickly slipped back into the routine with a new-found enthusiasm and I like it. Rather than a standard blog I think a poem will best represent how I got back into the rhythm of things this week - inspired by our outings this week.

Pushing off from the banks.
Aaaaaand Go!

Library.

Lecture.

Library.
Tutorial.
Library.
Class.
Library.

Starting from back stops.
Arms only.
Square blades.
Ready...
Aaaaand GO!

Reading.
Translation.
Dissertation.
Essay.
Prose.
Oral.

Bringing in the legs and bodies,
three-quarter slide,
on the next stroke,
Ready...
Aaaaand GO!

Naturalism.
Realism.
Surrealism.
Modernism.
Symbolism.
Decadence.

Bringing it up to full slide now,
feathered blades,
on the next stroke,
Ready...
Aaaaand GO!

Fascism
Liberalism.
Socialism.
Communism.
Eurocentricism.
Protectionism.

Keeping it smooth
and together.
Catching together.
Every time now.
Aaand THERE!
Aaand THERE!
Making
every,
stroke,
count.

Beckett.
Baudelaire.
Balzac.
Beigbeder.
Dante.
Duras.
Diderot.

If you take one bad stroke,
pick it up on the next.
Aaand THERE!
Aaand THERE!
Eyes in the boat.
Focus now.
Taking it up two on the legs,
down two on the slide.
on the next stroke,
GO!

Aaaaand THERE!
Dante Lectu-aand THERE!
Prose cla-aand THERE!
Pushing off the footplates.
Translatio-and THERE!
Dissertatio-and THERE!
Keeping that balance now.
Handle heights!

Library.Lecture.Library.Lunch.Tutorial.Library.Class.Library.Dinner.Library.

Get the balance back now!
Focusing on handle heights.
That's it!
Catch. And Finish.
Catch. And Finish.
I want a power ten now.
Bringing it up over three strokes.
Adding pressure.
Every time.
Working it up
aaand GO!
POWER TEN NOW!
Give it all you've got.

Reading.Translation.Dissertation.
Essay.Prose.Oral.
Naturalism. Realism.Surrealism.
Modernism.Symbolism.Decadence.
Fascism.Liberalism.Socialism.
Communism.Eurocentricism.Protectionism.
Beckett.Baudelaire.Balzac.Beibeder.
Dante.Duras.Diderot.

WINDING DOWN!
Calm that slide down,
lower the pressure,
don't stop yet.
Almost there now,
Aaaaaaaaaaand..
EAAAASY THERE!

Good effort girls.
Beautiful rowing.
Bow side,
backing it down.
Stroke side,
rowing on.

Rowing on.
Rowing on.
Rowing on.
Smooth and together.
Every time.

0th week of Hilary term... Christmas, collections and then it all kick starts again.

After a long Christmas vacation spent with family and friends back home, enjoying home comforts, mum's cooking, long-awaited catch-ups, endless games of articulate, shopping and great christmas tv movies, my heart sank when I realised it was time to return. I felt anxious about collections, having done far less work than planned, due to all of the above, and about the work to come in these last few laps to finals, but also feeling a bit of premature home sickness because, having spent so long with my family and friends I was reminded of how much I love spending time with them, which made it so much harder to leave.

As I sat on the train back up to oxford, trying to psych myself up to get back into the finalist mindset and shake off this negative attitude of dread, I remembered that this would be my final normalish term as a student; When I was on my year abroad last year, working 9-5, I had realised how great life is for students and felt both lucky and relieved that I still had one more year to enjoy. And that's when I came to my senses and remembered; university isn't just about what results you get, its about what you learn, the people you meet and the experiences and opportunities that you encounter. Whatever happens at the end of this year, whether I get a first or third, or something in between, I will still have spent four years of my life doing something I love, meeting people who inspire me, learning things I might never have had the chance of knowing, pushing myself to be the best I can, starting new sports and living a life full of possibilities and, sometimes, excitement, working hard and feeling the sense of achievement that comes hand in hand with that. No one can take that away from me, and as long as I do the best I can, I will have no reason to regret anything.

When I arrived, I got off the train with this new-found positive approach to finals. After that, once collections were done and dusted, 0th week has turned out to be far better than I expected.. In fact if I'm honest, its been really fun. The post-collections bop was a great reward after a few days of non-stop cram revision, and on Sunday before 0th week I got back into the swing of things by getting back into rowing properly. There's nothing like a Sunday afternoon spent on the riverside, in the fresh air and the winter sunshine, getting active as part of team. Rowing has given me some of my best memories, although some of the most painful and testing too, and I hope I will be able to keep it up and have many more in my last, 'normal' term of university. So far, so good, nought down, eight weeks to go! 

8th week: when everything comes together.

Wow. 8th Week. What a relief. It wasn't easy but we made it. This week I had the hardest essay of term to do. Writing the last essay of term is hard enough as it is; you don't have the same drive you had at the beginning of term and you can smell the Christmas vacation approaching. That means all you really want to do is stop now, blow it, you'll be off soon anyway. But when the last essay is the most challenging you just can't do that. You still have to get through one more tutorial and you can't sit in front of someone passionate about Dante and tell them you actually couldn't be bothered with this one, because it was the last of term. No. That would be offensive and embarrassing. You have to keep going, try and give it the same amount of effort as you had for the previous seven weeks. So that's what I did. It was painful, but I gave it one last push and whacked out the final essay of term. Eighth-week syndrome showed though. It was a bit of a train wreck of an essay. Thoughts are confused and you can tell there has been a bit of a rush to finish it. It was done though, that was the main thing. And with the last essay complete all that was left was Christmas formal to look forward to!

Christmas formal is always a special occasion. "Formal hall" is what you call it when the canteen cooks a special meal in college and everyone gets dressed up for it. The Principal says a few words in Latin and someone bangs a stick. It varies from college to college but St Anne's is the most relaxed and we only have formal every two weeks or so, whereas some colleges have it every night! Anyway "Christmas Formal" is even more special than normal formal - you get more food and its christmassy! Not only that but it marks the end of term and is a great way to celebrate survival with all your friends. And the Principal gives a speech. It's all very Harry-Potter-esque and this year was even better than normal The Principal's speech was great and he told a Christmas story using people in college to play the main roles. It was hilarious and then all of high table (that's all the professors who sit on the high table at the end of the hall - like in Harry Potter) sung us a Christmas carol. There's nothing quite like seeing people in high places acting silly. It was really fun and reminded me why the Oxford experience is so special. That wasn't it though.

After Christmas Formal we had the Christmas College Bop (like what we had in 0th week, it's like a college disco.) It was so much fun to party with all my friends together. For the first time in term all the linguists were out, everyone had finished there work - or almost- and we could all have a care-free dance together, without any randomers or sleeze-bags around. It was just what I had been waiting for all term. Everyone I loved together, finally free from work (for now) and ready for a much-needed Christmas break. No more essays or deadlines for a few weeks - What a Christmas miracle!

7th Week: Hitting rock bottom and bouncing right back up again.

This week I hit rock bottom. It happens to us all at one point or another. In some ways it's a relief when you get there. When you hit a low, there is something reassuring about the fact that things can only get better (as the song goes.) After a very monotonous term, swallowing one piece of work after another and then spitting them back out, like a factory machine, I found myself in one of the most stressful weeks of term, losing the will to go on. I had lots of deadlines approaching and it was my turn to give a presentation. Surprisingly though the low came after the deadline, not before. I had finished all of my work, delivered the dreaded presentation, but, unfortunately for me, none of my friends had. Not knowing what to do with myself, having finished all the set work for the week (that never happens!) I went back to the library with all my friends frantically finishing off their work. I sat there, feeling haggard, looking rough with that post-deadline bags-under-eyes-frizzy-hair-spaced-out-expression. I basically looked like the poster-girl for the "before" photo for a hair product ad. But I didn't want to go home, or watch TV or relax. What I wanted to was to do something crazy and wild. I needed to find some outlet for all the built-up adrenaline and stress after seven weeks of pumping out endless translations, essays and presentations. I wanted to do something out of the ordinary; ride a motorcycle, run into a field, go on a roller-coaster  get drunk, scream, sing, anything to make the most of my (temporary) freedom and release the built up emotion. But, when I looked around all I found was other stressed faces, still focused, still working . I had no one to share my freedom/celebrate with me.

Of course, as sod's law goes, just as I was in this moment of low, I received a text from my ex. He was in a pub near college and wondered if I wanted to go an meet him. On the one hand this filled me with excitement - finally someone to celebrate my new-found freedom with - but then, I looked in them mirror and realized this was probably the worst state I would like to be in to socialize with lots of people, especially an ex-boyfriend. It would take me too long to cycle all the way home, shower and come back. So I though, what the hell, it doesn't matter what I look like, I can still have fun. As I walked into the pub I realized this was an absolute lie. Everyone else looked amazing. Perfectly preened, glowing complexions, dressed to party. I felt so inadequate. Feeling insecure has a huge impact on social skills- in a bad way. I quickly left feeling frustrated and with a massive blow to the self- esteem. I felt like spending seven weeks in the library had destroyed all my social skills. I had forgotten how to talk to people. I had lost my confidence. I had become quite and boring. Or at least, that's how I felt.I walked home and ranted to my housemate. At least he seemed to find my tale amusing. That night I decided this had to stop. I would never let that happen again. I showered (getting closer to resembling the "after photo" of the hair product ad again) and got an early night to restore my forces ready for the next day.

The next evening I challenged myself - I had to prove to myself that I hadn't lost social skills, that I could still have fun like normal students should! I got an invite to birthday cocktails, I only knew two people there, but I wouldn't let that stop me. Not this time. I made sure I was ready for it this time, none of this frizzy-hair,-bags-under-eyes-letting-yourself-go business. That night I had one of the funnest nights of term. It was girl night. I met a whole new circle of girls. We danced, we laughed, we made friends and I felt human again, I felt alive, I felt good.

I guess sometimes we just need to hit a low to be able to finally bounce back again.

6th week: the essay crisis.

Sixth week is a funny one. It feels like your so close to the end that your body already wants to stop. You just want to go home and relax but you can't. You're painfully close to the end but not quite there yet. You have to keep going. In fact, there are still actually 3 weeks left, that's basically a month! In this state of wanting it all to be over, of wanting to be able to watch mindless TV for twenty minutes without feeling guilty about it, I had my first essay crisis of term. 

How do these things creep up on you just when you're feeling so in control? This time it was actually caused by too much preparation rather than too little. I had been sitting in the library for a few hours in between classes every day since it had been set, typing up ideas, reading critics etc. until I suddenly found myself, the day before the deadline, with 8 pages of notes, in a completely random order and often repeating themselves, feeling even more confused than ever. Now I don't mind writing new ideas down so much, when they're fresh in your mind, but re-organising what you have already written, looking back at those moments when you reached a new depth on knowledge, having lost it again, really makes your brain twitch (no - I didn't know brains could twitch either, but apparently they can.)  Aside from that, it also actually takes a lot more time than you might think. I sat on my computer in the library for 4 hours after dinner and decided to go home to get a fresher perspective. Much to my surprise, it actually really helped. 

On the bike ride home, as I cycled further and further away, I remembered that the world still continues to exist outside of college and actually, this essay that I was getting so worked up about was pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of things. As a result of this enlightening journey,(yes I know- you can tell I have just been writing a Dante essay - its difficult to turn off from essay mode!) by the time I got home, I looked back at my essay with a fresh perspective and rather than worrying about it so much, I just did it (yes Nike.) It got to 1am and I still hadn't finished but it wasn't due till 3pm the next day -although I had lectures in the morning - one of which was given by the tutor said essay was for- so I just woke up early the next morning and kept working on it. 

This is how days really roll into each other when you're essay writing. You forget about normal life routines, your room turns into a total tip, you don't even think about exercising and you eat whatever is closest to hand if you get hungry, even if it is not exactly 'nutritious.'  I finished my essay at 4pm on the dot, and sent it off, then jumped on my bike and cycled like crazy to get to an essay class which unfortunately started at 4pm on the dot too. I sat in the classroom, my mind still bursting with all these ideas from the essay and slowly adapted to being back in the real world. The lack of sleep and shock at how I had somehow managed to pull it off, send off the essay and get to my class on time gave me a crazy adrenaline rush and my heart was beating so fast I actually got a bit freaked out. You don't even realise how much your work has affected you, until it's over and your body finally allows itself to relax. At the same time though, I felt incredibly free and satisfied. I suppose what I felt was a sense of achievement, I had truly put my best into it - that's a pretty nice feeling. 

I had forgotten what that post-essay-crisis feeling was like. You feel kind of elated, almost hysterically happy, self-satisified, free. You feel a strange desire to do something wild, get drunk or run through a field, dance, sing, find some outlet for the tension that has built up inside of you up until that final moment when you click the send/print button. Of course this is fairly short-lived and unlike 1st and 2nd year when I would always have some social event to rush off to straight after finishing an essay as nice reward, as a 4th year, once the adrenaline had slowly drained away I was left feeling exhausted, although still equally satisfied, and rather than treasuring the moment of freedom and living in the moment, I thought about what was still left to do and how I needed to use this time for 're-fortification' in preparation for the next attack with the next deadline. So rather than going wild, I opted for a 'crazy' night in, in true 4th year style.

When I got home later I walked into the house with my books strewn across the table, my bed covered in a chaotic mess of clothes and things dotted all over the floor. I scrubbed the blue ink from my hand to make myself feel human again, tidied my room, took time to cook a wholesome meal and enjoyed my cosy night in, so that I would be ready to face it all again the next day. You think it's all over, it never really is. Final year is truly relentless.

5th week blues?

For the first time since I have been here, this week (5th week) I got that really warm, comforting feeling of being on top of it all. And this came on Doomsday Tuesday of 5th week of all days! (Fifth week is renowned for being the week when everything crumbles for a lot of students, we are just over half way, so close, yet so far. People tend to get sick/ break down -this student 'epidemic' is referred to as "5th week blues")

I woke up at 7am, packed my bag carefully making sure I didn't forget anything, went to my oral class and was the first to arrive. Felt incredibly awake in the class and did a lot of talking. I cycled to a Leopardi lecture straight afterwards, felt like I finally understood some things I had never understood in second year about him, scribbled my notes so fast and so fiercely that when I came out I looked like I was turning into an avatar with the side of my palm completely stained with blue ink. Cycled to another lecture which was equally insightful, cycled to lunch, but limited it to half an hour (that's over-the-top self-control for me- since for the 11 months I was in France lunches always lasted at least an hour!) went to the library in my 45 minute gap (when I would normally go to the coffee shop to clear my head) to revise French vocab and grammar, before rushing to a French prose class, where I had a very nasty translation of Treasure Island to do in exam conditions. Normally this would have totally changed my mood but I was in such a composed state not even that could knock me out of it! I went back to the library and -for the first time this term- sat down with Dante and had a real heart to heart with him, finally giving him the attention he had been seeking all this time. Then, suddenly realizing that this was the first time me and Dante had been so close, had a bit of a freak out at the fact that we have only just managed to click now, in 5th week, after 5 weeks of studying him. But really, after a year abroad, I suppose it's normal that it's taken me this long to really settle back into things. That wasn't even the end of it though, after two hours in the library I rushed off to my Dante seminar - just in case I hadn't had enough of him for that day, to prove my absolute devotion.

At the end of it all, I went to STACs (the St. Anne's coffee shop) and finally had that hot drink I had missed out on earlier- but I actually savored it so much more than usual precisely because I had really worked for it. I went home feeling really pleased with myself. I know not all days can be like this, but even just a few days like this are what you need to feel really in control. Let's hope I can keep up this composure for the next 3 weeks at least!

4th week Graduation (not mine).

So, I'm going to be honest, I'm writing this blog post in hindsight; I failed to keep up with my weekly blog post challenge, but there is a good reason for that- as you will see- and at least I'm making up for it now with this back-tracking.

Basically, 4th week marked a kind of turning point in Michaelmas term for me. This week was quite an inspirational one and it reached it's pinnacle at the weekend when all of my old uni friends came back for their graduation ceremony. Graduation is always a special day: All the graduates turned up with their families, with big smiles on their faces, looking smart in their gowns and mortar boards. It was all very Harry-Potter-esque and you could almost hear the end of film music in the background as you watched them all flock into college. I was so happy to see all of my old gang of friends back together again, and the friendly faces I used to love seeing around college so much. It was like going back in time and remember what the college atmosphere used to feel like. Nostalgia for them, but nostalgia for me too, which was weird because obviously I'm still here. 

In the midst of all of this, I had lots of work to do, and the longer I stood waiting for them all to arrive, chatting to them all, sharing the special day with them, the more guilty I felt about not being in the place I knew I should be - the library. I watched them all come out of the Sheldonian theatre, took lots of pictures and it all just felt so surreal. You could just sense the aura of pride and satisfaction floating around all of them. They had all been down to the depths of exam stress and had managed to emerge from it all, standing tall looking glorious after a summer of celebration (and life-planning.) I admired them all and so it was a great motivation, it made me want to work hard, push myself to my limits, because I realised that the more I do now, the better this feeling at the end of it all will be. They had come through it all together, and there was such a strong feeling of team spirit, they were like a surviving troops returning from battle. What they had been through together meant that they will probably all be friends for a long long time, and meant that now they could celebrate it all together too. 

After this, I just felt like getting totally serious about all of my work. I went back to the library and my concentration was the highest it had been all term. I did one essay after another, and somehow seemed to understand it all better than I had before. I stopped over-thinking it all and just got on with it. They reminded me of what I'm working towards, where I'm heading. That's why I didn't write a blog post this week, I focused completely on work and didn't allow any distractions. It was also pretty emotional to see them all, and have to say goodbye again, but c'est la vie. I'm lucky to have such a good group of 4th years with me this year, we have really tied together and now we have the vision of graduation to keep us all going too. At least, I hope I make it that far... Here's trying!

3rd Week: Rediscovering the passion...

A funny thing just happened. Just as I was beginning to lose passion and drive, I came across something which gave me a motivational boost in the right direction. It's Monday night and tomorrow is Doomsday Tuesday so I should really go to bed, but I feel terrible about falling behind on this weekly blog posting business and just as I was getting ready for bed I remembered I had to look for a document on my old hard drive. When I opened it and started to look for the document I needed, I stumbled upon some old files I had created back in sixth form. Such a blast from the past, and actually a really nice one.

The first thing I found was list of things I had written down to do before I was 21 (I turned 21 in February so ran out of time for that one) but the list gave me such a flash back to the old me. The innocent, carefree, optimistic teenage-me that I had completely forgotten about. It cheered me up so much! I had managed to do a few of the things on the list in time, like going to a 'proper rock concert,' backpacking in Europe, and singing solo in front of an audience, but there were a lot of things on there I haven't done yet, like 'having a manicure' with one of my best friends, Helen (still a best friend now!) learning yoga, scuba diving and going paintballing amongst other things. As much as I could be really disappointed in myself for not having managed to do these things (and for forgetting all about this list), I actually feel kind of happy that I haven't done them all, because this has given me a new-found thirst for life - just what you need when you're feeling low! There are so many things I still want to do, and although right now all my time and energy is taken up on studying, after finals, although I might not have a job straight away or know what I want to do with my life, it will be so nice to be able to have the time to discover all the little perks there are to life, all the first experiences I haven't had yet! I feel like writing a new list of 'things to do before I'm 30' - this may have to be the first thing I do after finals, to celebrate the freedom.

The second thing I found was possibly better than the first in terms of helping to cheer me up tonight. It was the personal statement I wrote when I applied to Oxford. In it I explain why I was so keen to study languages. It's exactly what I needed. I needed to remember why I'm here. Why I love my subject. Why I should love every minute of this instead of complaining about it all the time. It's easy to lose perspective when you get stuck in the thick of it, and with a four year course it's only natural that at times your enthusiasm starts to waiver, especially so close to the end, but sometimes you just need a little reminder of why you chose to do what you're doing and of how much you wanted it and how excited you were to do it and, most importantly, how lucky you are to be able to do what you wanted to. That's right. Tomorrow is Doomsday Tuesday, but I'm going to enjoy every minute of it, appreciate all the insight I'm gaining in lectures, savour every correction of every mistake of my translation, and cherish every word of idiomatic french that comes out of my oral tutor's mouth; because it's what I wanted, because, even if it's hard, it's going to push me to be the person I so wanted to be back when I was still at school and because it's my passion. Like I said in my personal statement all those years ago: "Languages run through my blood. They are in my past and my present and I hope they will be in my future."  Well, I guess this the crucial time for me to try to make sure they are. On that note, I'm off to bed to make sure I can truly appreciate tomorrow!