"Dear Miss Armstrong,
I write to inform you that your application to Exeter has been received by the College and is now under active consideration."
Let the games commence ;D
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Monday, 29 October 2007
The HELLNat
Ah, the Law National Admissions Test. Sounds rather, global, doesn't it? Well in fact, only 10 universities bother with the damn thing, and I certainly do not blame them.
I had the great displeasure of taking the blasted thing last Wednesday. The format seems quite innocent enough; 80 minutes to answer 30 multiple choice questions based upon 10 academic texts, and then a delightful 40 minute essay at the end to nicely round the two hours off. Oh, glee.
Just three minor problems:
One: The entire thing is on computer. No highlighters, standard 12pt Times New Roman font (which could of been made a bit bigger, at least), looking all prettyful in a scroll box. Oh, and the test center had those old fat screens, ya know, the ones that, after squinting your eyes trying to read whilst heavily focusing, make your eyes feel like they're bleeding.
Two: The texts/questions. Yes, I had a great deal of fun learning about the great criticisms of the pyramids. Sarcasm aside, some where actually interesting. Problem is, I don't particularly care about the writer's unstated assumption. Most likely because I have assumed the assumption myself in order to understand the text, therefore why would I need/want backtrack and figure out the assumption the writer assumed I would assume anyway? Simple. Because if I don't, I'm not going to Nottingham. My future basically rests on a little number between zero and thirty. 19, minimum.
And three: Typing. As a part of the y00f, I realize that I should be 'down with the technology' and computer lit. And I am. Heck I can touch type like nobody's business dawg. But why no spell-checker? I know the obvious answer is because 'they want to check your spelling and you shouldn't be lazy', but really, why? Most spelling errors, from one was competing for an LNat university, would probably be down to typos. And then, why on earth would an undergrad student even think about attempting to write an academic essay without a spell checker? Better still, I can safely say all the lawyers and barristers I saw on work experience were happily right clicking under the red line on the old Microsoft Word. So if it not done at university, and it's not done in the field, why assess how well I can type whilst worrying whether my tree-trunk fingers and furious typing are making me look like I have the spelling capabilities of a three year old.
But, as tests go, it was certainly challenging. My essay was, quite latterly, short and sweet. Emphasis on the former, hopeful wishes on the latter.
Either way, I'm beginning to think Lancaster is actually the University for me. It's an AAB offer with no LNat. Genius.
Hopefully I won't be waiting too long to hear my LNat Uni rejections post-November. Ah well. Easy come easy go.
It's just shame this easy go cost me £40....
xxx
I had the great displeasure of taking the blasted thing last Wednesday. The format seems quite innocent enough; 80 minutes to answer 30 multiple choice questions based upon 10 academic texts, and then a delightful 40 minute essay at the end to nicely round the two hours off. Oh, glee.
Just three minor problems:
One: The entire thing is on computer. No highlighters, standard 12pt Times New Roman font (which could of been made a bit bigger, at least), looking all prettyful in a scroll box. Oh, and the test center had those old fat screens, ya know, the ones that, after squinting your eyes trying to read whilst heavily focusing, make your eyes feel like they're bleeding.
Two: The texts/questions. Yes, I had a great deal of fun learning about the great criticisms of the pyramids. Sarcasm aside, some where actually interesting. Problem is, I don't particularly care about the writer's unstated assumption. Most likely because I have assumed the assumption myself in order to understand the text, therefore why would I need/want backtrack and figure out the assumption the writer assumed I would assume anyway? Simple. Because if I don't, I'm not going to Nottingham. My future basically rests on a little number between zero and thirty. 19, minimum.And three: Typing. As a part of the y00f, I realize that I should be 'down with the technology' and computer lit. And I am. Heck I can touch type like nobody's business dawg. But why no spell-checker? I know the obvious answer is because 'they want to check your spelling and you shouldn't be lazy', but really, why? Most spelling errors, from one was competing for an LNat university, would probably be down to typos. And then, why on earth would an undergrad student even think about attempting to write an academic essay without a spell checker? Better still, I can safely say all the lawyers and barristers I saw on work experience were happily right clicking under the red line on the old Microsoft Word. So if it not done at university, and it's not done in the field, why assess how well I can type whilst worrying whether my tree-trunk fingers and furious typing are making me look like I have the spelling capabilities of a three year old.
But, as tests go, it was certainly challenging. My essay was, quite latterly, short and sweet. Emphasis on the former, hopeful wishes on the latter.
Either way, I'm beginning to think Lancaster is actually the University for me. It's an AAB offer with no LNat. Genius.
Hopefully I won't be waiting too long to hear my LNat Uni rejections post-November. Ah well. Easy come easy go.
It's just shame this easy go cost me £40....
xxx
Sunday, 28 October 2007
Oversubscibed Dreams
Looking back with hindsight from my grand tour of University Open Day's, one thing has been niggling away in the back of my mind.
I will be snobby and admit, law is an academic subject. And not everyone is academic. Because if everyone was academic, I would of had to dye my hair myself last Thursday. Because, at least to me, no one with the potential to be a lawyer would happily trade it up to be a minimum wage slave, on your feet for six-seven-eight hours. No, no, no. That sounds hellish to me.
But it seems that there are tons of potential legal professionals happily budding for places this year. I have been reminded again and again, law is a competitive subject. And as flick through university prospectuses, I begin to worry even more. Almost every law school I have glance upon has demanded an AAA offer. In fact, York Law School, just beginning this year, is demanding the almighty threesome too - even a law school with no previous experience or reputation are bracing itself for a barrage of entries.
I know there are some amazing students out there that deserve all the offers they get. I remember one visit to Durham University for a law conference. Heck, the place was packed to the brim - and there were no parents. 200 at least. All amazing students. I spent the day with two of them, who of course both got A's in the subject, one of which was just a mark from 100%! Very clever indeed. During one talk by a lady on how law features in Sesame Street (which was amazing), I remember how she asked one particular guy about a topic on the news. He gave the facts in such intricate detail, quoting law (act names and numbers included), and just generally owning the hall. Now, I know for a fact I'm not one of them. I'm not a numbers girl, nor do I know the exact names and years of many acts. So on this particular trip, I felt really stupid.
Afterwards, it was time for a break, so cue stampede of students at the canteen, armed with vouchers for a free tea or coffee. He is in front of us in the queue, surrounded by amazed students firing questions like 'Do you have a social life?', 'Do you actually go out?', 'Do you stay in and read law all the time?'. Answers: Yes Yes No. He didn't seem surprised at all; I guess he was used to the praise.
However, listening to his conversation in the queue was a different matter. A highbrow discussion on politics and catholics? Egads. All the way to the front of the queue, his discussion remained the same.
Now, I remotely enjoy politics. I hesitate to use the word 'enjoy'. In fact, it infuriates me sometimes. But that's for another rant. And Catholics? Well, I recently had to write an LNat essay on whether catholic-run hotels should be allowed to refuse gay couples.
Ugh, LNat. That's another story entirely.
But my point is, lately, I've felt like I'm not the right person to be doing law. I couldn't give a toss about the catholics, even though they really need to get with the times over the whole homo thing. And politics is just a pompous Punch and Judy show that can't decide on who the director should be, let alone find any decent, honest performers.
I have constantly wondered whether law is truly the course for me. Deep deep down inside, I'd perhaps like to do something a little more creative. Graphics, maybe. So why am I doing law?
Simple. I love it. I really, really do. Call me a saddo, but I really do practically bum off the subject. And heck, if you really love something, no matter how boring it might become at times or no matter how lame it might see to your friends or family, you should go for it. No matter how competitive it might be, no matter how little my chances are at getting into a good university or getting a job in a reputable law firm, I'm going to go all out, because I love the damn thing, and I can't draw to save my life.
xxx
I will be snobby and admit, law is an academic subject. And not everyone is academic. Because if everyone was academic, I would of had to dye my hair myself last Thursday. Because, at least to me, no one with the potential to be a lawyer would happily trade it up to be a minimum wage slave, on your feet for six-seven-eight hours. No, no, no. That sounds hellish to me.
But it seems that there are tons of potential legal professionals happily budding for places this year. I have been reminded again and again, law is a competitive subject. And as flick through university prospectuses, I begin to worry even more. Almost every law school I have glance upon has demanded an AAA offer. In fact, York Law School, just beginning this year, is demanding the almighty threesome too - even a law school with no previous experience or reputation are bracing itself for a barrage of entries.
I know there are some amazing students out there that deserve all the offers they get. I remember one visit to Durham University for a law conference. Heck, the place was packed to the brim - and there were no parents. 200 at least. All amazing students. I spent the day with two of them, who of course both got A's in the subject, one of which was just a mark from 100%! Very clever indeed. During one talk by a lady on how law features in Sesame Street (which was amazing), I remember how she asked one particular guy about a topic on the news. He gave the facts in such intricate detail, quoting law (act names and numbers included), and just generally owning the hall. Now, I know for a fact I'm not one of them. I'm not a numbers girl, nor do I know the exact names and years of many acts. So on this particular trip, I felt really stupid.Afterwards, it was time for a break, so cue stampede of students at the canteen, armed with vouchers for a free tea or coffee. He is in front of us in the queue, surrounded by amazed students firing questions like 'Do you have a social life?', 'Do you actually go out?', 'Do you stay in and read law all the time?'. Answers: Yes Yes No. He didn't seem surprised at all; I guess he was used to the praise.
However, listening to his conversation in the queue was a different matter. A highbrow discussion on politics and catholics? Egads. All the way to the front of the queue, his discussion remained the same.
Now, I remotely enjoy politics. I hesitate to use the word 'enjoy'. In fact, it infuriates me sometimes. But that's for another rant. And Catholics? Well, I recently had to write an LNat essay on whether catholic-run hotels should be allowed to refuse gay couples.
Ugh, LNat. That's another story entirely.
But my point is, lately, I've felt like I'm not the right person to be doing law. I couldn't give a toss about the catholics, even though they really need to get with the times over the whole homo thing. And politics is just a pompous Punch and Judy show that can't decide on who the director should be, let alone find any decent, honest performers.
I have constantly wondered whether law is truly the course for me. Deep deep down inside, I'd perhaps like to do something a little more creative. Graphics, maybe. So why am I doing law?
Simple. I love it. I really, really do. Call me a saddo, but I really do practically bum off the subject. And heck, if you really love something, no matter how boring it might become at times or no matter how lame it might see to your friends or family, you should go for it. No matter how competitive it might be, no matter how little my chances are at getting into a good university or getting a job in a reputable law firm, I'm going to go all out, because I love the damn thing, and I can't draw to save my life.
xxx
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
Lancaster University
Did a campus tour of Lancaster University today.
L O V E D I T.
<3
If your still wondering what universities to go to or you need one last one to fill up your choices, try here.
Seriously.
L O V E D I T.
<3
If your still wondering what universities to go to or you need one last one to fill up your choices, try here.
Seriously.
Tuesday, 16 October 2007
The psychology of college corridors.
Ok, picture the scene. Your happily walking in college, down a standard sized corridor. Not a care in the world.
Then stick about 300 students in that corridor, 60% with no clue where they are going, 30% decide this would be a great setting to stop and have a chat, and the other are just going to push push push because the excitement of going to their next class is just getting too much.
Now seriously. Throughout my life, i've been told to walk on one side of the corridor. 'Stay out of peoples way', we were told in a principals talk, 'keep to the left', 'don't go blocking the corridor'.
I am beginning to realise I was the only one who bothered to listen in that talk.
Just today, for example, I'm walking to my next lesson. BAM! A group of about six first years, hanging out by the cash machine. Suspicious, much? But anyway. They are pretty much blocking up the entire corridors with their stupid over-sized 'handbags' and white hair extensions, whilst about the population of Europe try and walk down the coridoor. They seemed surprised when someone pushed them out of the way. To be honest, when your personal space is being invaded to the point where you can see the fresh stubble of a girls recently waxed eyebrows, it's not only slightly disturbing what weird things you notice about other people, but how awkward some people are. Intentionally.
I have a thing about manners. There is a reason why we have them. They make us better people. If we screw something up, manners are there to lessen the blow. So when I didn't even detect a sign of remorse from the barbies for pretty much packing us like a tin of sardines, I got really ticked off.
I think kiddies like that caught on cctv should be reffered to compulsory Common Sense classes. They wouldn't need to bother finding a teacher, I'd be ready and waiting. I'd make a great teacher for it too. Look, I already have a lesson plan:
Lesson 1: The dummies guide to manners: a crash course in please, thank you, sorry, and getting the fuck out of my way when I'm trying to walk across campus.
It's a winning formula.
Then stick about 300 students in that corridor, 60% with no clue where they are going, 30% decide this would be a great setting to stop and have a chat, and the other are just going to push push push because the excitement of going to their next class is just getting too much.
Now seriously. Throughout my life, i've been told to walk on one side of the corridor. 'Stay out of peoples way', we were told in a principals talk, 'keep to the left', 'don't go blocking the corridor'.
I am beginning to realise I was the only one who bothered to listen in that talk.
Just today, for example, I'm walking to my next lesson. BAM! A group of about six first years, hanging out by the cash machine. Suspicious, much? But anyway. They are pretty much blocking up the entire corridors with their stupid over-sized 'handbags' and white hair extensions, whilst about the population of Europe try and walk down the coridoor. They seemed surprised when someone pushed them out of the way. To be honest, when your personal space is being invaded to the point where you can see the fresh stubble of a girls recently waxed eyebrows, it's not only slightly disturbing what weird things you notice about other people, but how awkward some people are. Intentionally.
I have a thing about manners. There is a reason why we have them. They make us better people. If we screw something up, manners are there to lessen the blow. So when I didn't even detect a sign of remorse from the barbies for pretty much packing us like a tin of sardines, I got really ticked off.
I think kiddies like that caught on cctv should be reffered to compulsory Common Sense classes. They wouldn't need to bother finding a teacher, I'd be ready and waiting. I'd make a great teacher for it too. Look, I already have a lesson plan:
Lesson 1: The dummies guide to manners: a crash course in please, thank you, sorry, and getting the fuck out of my way when I'm trying to walk across campus.
It's a winning formula.
Sunday, 14 October 2007
Rugby: Gay gangbang or actual sport?
I kid, I kid.
Even though I was more for the former watching England KICKTHEABSOLUTESHYYYTOUTOFFRANCE just the other night.
I had never watched a full rugby match on t.v. until yesterday. In fact, I was blissfully oblivious until I saw the fatal word appear on my TV screen:
FRANCE.
Ok, ok, ok. I am not racist, or a discriminator. I hate everyone equally. Buuuut I've never been one of those France fanatics to begin with, and being forced to learn Frances from ages 11-16 pretty much pushed me over the edge.
Actually let me back-track to that France fanatic thing. WHY? Why are some British people like...orgasmic over France? I could use a whole hand naming people who just love it...the culture...the language...the...the....big pointy thing....the.... crossiants? Je deteste le croissants. I suppose I will give the credit for their fashions. Clap clap Mr Dior.
But French mothers scare the living hell out of me. Period.
Ok back to the topic at hand.
Rugby. Muscular, sweaty men, duking it out to bring their respective countries pride that they can throw balls better than anyone else. If all the rugby players of the world got together, they could be the destroyer of worlds. Or at least good politicians.
I have to admit, the sport makes absolutely no sense to me. And it looked pretty messy - at least with football, I can remotely understand what is going on. But this seemed all...Charge of the Light Brigade-y to me.
Alright so you are probabley still wondering where the heck I got gay gangbang from. But I mean...chasing balls...pulling down men to the ground to get on top of them...sticking fingers up guys asses to 'distract' them (and yes, I DID see a French player do this to one of my homeboys last night.)...sweet sweet celebratory kisses...butt squeezes...after match baths.
Ok so they didn't show the last one, but you get the point. Considering rugby is an 'all man' sport, you must appreciate that, to an outsider like me, it really does look...all man...having fun.
Anyway, I will finish this off some other time. C:
Even though I was more for the former watching England KICKTHEABSOLUTESHYYYTOUTOFFRANCE just the other night.
I had never watched a full rugby match on t.v. until yesterday. In fact, I was blissfully oblivious until I saw the fatal word appear on my TV screen:
FRANCE.
Ok, ok, ok. I am not racist, or a discriminator. I hate everyone equally. Buuuut I've never been one of those France fanatics to begin with, and being forced to learn Frances from ages 11-16 pretty much pushed me over the edge.
Actually let me back-track to that France fanatic thing. WHY? Why are some British people like...orgasmic over France? I could use a whole hand naming people who just love it...the culture...the language...the...the....big pointy thing....the.... crossiants? Je deteste le croissants. I suppose I will give the credit for their fashions. Clap clap Mr Dior.
But French mothers scare the living hell out of me. Period.
Ok back to the topic at hand.
Rugby. Muscular, sweaty men, duking it out to bring their respective countries pride that they can throw balls better than anyone else. If all the rugby players of the world got together, they could be the destroyer of worlds. Or at least good politicians.
I have to admit, the sport makes absolutely no sense to me. And it looked pretty messy - at least with football, I can remotely understand what is going on. But this seemed all...Charge of the Light Brigade-y to me.
Alright so you are probabley still wondering where the heck I got gay gangbang from. But I mean...chasing balls...pulling down men to the ground to get on top of them...sticking fingers up guys asses to 'distract' them (and yes, I DID see a French player do this to one of my homeboys last night.)...sweet sweet celebratory kisses...butt squeezes...after match baths.
Ok so they didn't show the last one, but you get the point. Considering rugby is an 'all man' sport, you must appreciate that, to an outsider like me, it really does look...all man...having fun.
Anyway, I will finish this off some other time. C:
Ready Set Go.
Let me start off by upholding the dysfunctional yoof of Britain tradition by wondering who the fuck are you and perhaps shooting a few colourful phrases as we engage in a delightful word joust about how beautiful your mother looked just the other night.
Oh wait no sorry. Wrong context.
Now, I won't begin a rant about how one should never judge a book by it's cover, because everyone just goes to see the film instead. So let me alter it slightly - don't judge a film by the little youtube dickweed that goes around posting 'iT sukz!!!111!!11111'.
Why? They expect too much. Take 300 for example. A beautiful film. Now thats what I call a man. Or men, rather.
And yet, people complain that it is not historically accurate. The only thing accurate, apparently, is that the Spartans fought the whatsafaces. Well oh dear lord that changes EVERYTHING. Because you see, I thought I was sat in that cinema watching an entertaining film, not a freaking documentary.
Two words for you: History. Channel.
Oh wait no sorry. Wrong context.
Now, I won't begin a rant about how one should never judge a book by it's cover, because everyone just goes to see the film instead. So let me alter it slightly - don't judge a film by the little youtube dickweed that goes around posting 'iT sukz!!!111!!11111'.
Why? They expect too much. Take 300 for example. A beautiful film. Now thats what I call a man. Or men, rather.
And yet, people complain that it is not historically accurate. The only thing accurate, apparently, is that the Spartans fought the whatsafaces. Well oh dear lord that changes EVERYTHING. Because you see, I thought I was sat in that cinema watching an entertaining film, not a freaking documentary.
Two words for you: History. Channel.
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