Disenchanting

It has possibly been the most boring Monday to Friday I have ever experienced. I genuinely have done nothing with my days. The only bit of "excitement" I can think of, is the bottom half of the car coming off and then spending a lot of money I simply don't have getting it fixed, and even then it hasn't been done properly. Also, some egid, whilst on my way to the garage, felt the need to get out of his car and alert me to the fact that my exhaust was hanging off..

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed the tractor-like noise of the car as it was chugging along, and the scraping sound of metal on concrete!" Moron. He was driving a Mercedes aswell, so naturally he was a prick.

Anyway. Despite being woken up on numerous occasions by Ian The Bathroom Fitter, a Leeds United fan with an accent and demeanour to match, who makes an appearance in the Mitten Household at 8.30am, every morning, without fail, to work on putting a whole new bathroom on to the back of the house... *Breathe*, I do somehow still awake in the early hours of the afternoon, even if Ian The Bathroom Fitter is drilling, sawing, de-tiling, shouting... thus meaning my sleeping pattern is as shot as Osama's brain. Sorry, I had to get that in there...

My attempts to look for work has stepped up a gear. Out of neutral, into 1st.. Part of me just thinks there's no real point. I mean, even if I wanted to work, the opportunities at the moment are scarce and the jobs I do apply for, I receive no reply from whatsoever. It quickly drains you. I am yearning for a rejection letter at the moment, simply to say I've taken a step forward and got a reply!

And then there's University.. All of the Student Finance is sorted, I have my offer and I have sent off my decleration stating I have not told them I am a Saudi national and live in a 5-storey mansion in Islington, and indeed just boring old Mitten from the suburbs of Bedford town. My accommodation application is in the air, split into many an atom and will, and most probably has, landed in the inbox of the Brighton University Accommodation Office, and will, most probably, not be acted upon until the last dregs of the Summer. Everything is sorted. Except my own brain.

I cannot wait to go. The anticipation of beginning a new life 200 miles away is eating away at my brain like a heavily weighted man would eat away at a chicken pie. I want my life to be filled with purpose and meaning, and to be respected amongst my friends and family again, but my brain switches from excitement to pure apprehension and nervousness every time I start to think about it. Small things appear, and suddenly I have a 4-hour discussion with my own brain on what could and could not happen. In short, my brain is being frazzled alive.

'The awkward moment when you realise University is 10 times harder than A-Levels' ... Really? As most of you probably well know, I didn't handle my A-Levels with the greatest ability, and I wonder, what if I am getting myself into the worst possible mess imaginable? I don't know what it's like. I mean, I've almost forgotten what it was like to be in education at all. What if I fall apart again?

I tell myself I will put in 100%, but what if I let myself get under too much pressure again? What if I fail 1st year? Then what? No. I can't think like that. It definitely won't happen if I think like that. But I do have this discussion with myself at least once a fortnight. It's a killer. Of course, University is life changing. Personality changing. Life defining. It will most definitely be better than the disenchanting life I lead at the moment... It has to be.

Back to the present, and of course, you have guessed it, it's 2.30am. Of course it is. I have cricket tomorrow and Sunday, (Wonderfully British weather permitting, obviously), and I will admit to being slightly nervous. After last week's calamities, I have put myself under pressure to at least survive more than 1 ball, and you know me.. Always thinking negatively. I've got a bad feeling I may well think myself into surrender. Father Mitten has earnt a debut call-up aswell, at late notice. Even more embarrassing if I fail in front of him! A small part of me, is genuinely hoping for rain.

And don't even get me started on Nick Clegg. Deary me.