Finally the exams, the ones that haunt you all year that you in fact pay for and parents don't tell you until the last minute that you in fact did not have to do them if they didn't pay, ("Wait..you paid for these?" "yes." "YOU PAID FOR THIS TORTURE??!!! FACIST! FACIST!") are finally completed. After two days of stress, cramming, Satie and Vivaldi, my exams and practically year, is over. Well not entirely, theres still the computing exam but thats basically a joke, for example:Susan is looking at her inbox, how many emails has she received?
a) 4
b) 0
c) 8
d) dubfkshbdhvdfakhakshbc
Hint: its not d
Whenever I do an exam I always have this little tune playing in the back on my head, as I said before my life always has a soundtrack yet when you are trying to answer the equation of half pie multiplied by 4.5 without a calculator,"Remember You're a Womble" is not quite fitting, despite it being a truly fantastic song. Other soundtracks include "Rollercoaster" by that Irish Spice Girl rip off band, B*witched and "Excitable Boy" by Warren Zevon, the man that can make homicide and building cages out of prom dates bones, sound good plus groovy, lastly the "aaaaWOOOOOO" part of "Werewolves of London" because thats the only part I know. I ended up tapping my way through most of the maths exam and howling for the last ten minutes of History/ Geography, not generally helpful in answering land management questions as I often end up writing what I'm humming. "With non-government organisations like dug up her grave and built a cage with her bones".
The problem with History is that when I write about feminist rights I become rather, in a word, angry or perhaps more, defencive, due to my grandmothers influence of "be a feminist! Getting married sucks!" (taking advice from someone who told you that "Puff the Magic Dragon was part of our heritage", if so, this may explain a few things). I am also an avid Whitlam supporter, for reasons beyond me ("Whitlam, you had me at "Its Time"") and often feel its necessary to mention my commitment to the former and sacked Prime Minister no matter the question. Thus, my extended answer read like a campaign for feminism and bringing back Whitlam. Good stuff. I then attempted to sleep but became to self conscious, this was after I ripped my answer sheet nearly in half, pursuing the instruction to separate the pages. If this is any indicator, as it is meant to be, of my Year 12 exams then I am stuffed.
