Done! Or... not.

Last week, I handed in the bulk of my schoolwork. I wish that the act had been followed with great relief, satisfaction and joy, but really, it was nothing but disapointment. I supposed it's hard to be happy with any result that's taken so much out of you, over such a long time. I just feel like I could have done better--but then again, that's not such a horrible thought, is it? On screen, the idea that I can always do better, no matter how well I've done, is much less frustrating than the thought in my head (and in my stomach) that I could have, should have done better on this course.

I'd also feel more relief if I was actually done working. I need to fix up our magazine project to make it enterable in a competition and all this week I've been toiling at New Statesman. So my weekend will again be spent in the library, in front of a computer, tweaking things in Quark--hence my lack of joy. This is all the more a shame given London is currently 30+ degrees and rather sunny, a rare occcurance. Such weather is lovely when you're lolling about Hyde Park, tossing a frisbee or lying in the sun, but when you're trudging on the sweltering, stinking, crowded tube to an air-condition-less office to stare, unpaid, at a computer screen, then such fine weather seems more salt-in-the-wound than summer reward. (It also doesn't help that my eyes are red and itchy... from infection, or hay fever or pollution--I don't know. But they hurt, and I can't wear contacts. Welcome to summer in London, I guess.)



After the last day of work, which felt like a billion Gauntlet productions crammed into a single day, we handed in our stuff (which was an ordeal in itself) and wandered over to the New Cross Inn (as pictured, more here), favoured haunt of exhausted journalism students and stick-wielding freaks alike. As with any group of people forced to work together, my class is a study in group relations (indeed, we think our program coordinator may have been studying us... no jokes.) But, one of the finer moments, I think anyways, was Kate making some smart-ass remark comparing the course to Guantanamo Bay, and Angela turning to Kate--this is teacher to student here--and saying somehting to the effect of: "You just think that because you hate me."

We were a stressed bunch, to say the least. But it's done, save a 3k word paper, which as those of you who saw my habits in my BA know, is about a day's work. (Or a night pounding away at the computer in Ken's office, with the door locked.)

Of course, my work isn't done. After a much anticipated week-long vacation/visit at home, I'm spending a week in July at the Times, after being found, via the stupidest test ever, to be the best sub-editor in the class (amusing, as some of you, including Peter, have pointed out, I make a lot of spelling and typing mistakes that I don't fix). For getting the top mark in the class, I "won" a week's worth of work experience subbing at the Times. Every day I'm not at the Times in July, I'm gonna be at Ethical Corporation, doing shiznit there. And then in August, it's ten days at the Telegraph, and a coupla weeks covering festivals in Edinburgh. So much for summer vacation.

And the worst part: then--only then--do I start actually working. It's gonna be a long forty years to retirement...


Post-hand-in pics, here: http://njkobie.dotphoto.com/CPViewAlbum.asp?AID=2547928

Much more cheerful post about York/Leeds to come... just imagine the stress-relieving weekend I needed after all this, throw in a lot of beer in quaint pubs, some fancy-pants racing and a big freaking wall, and you're on your way to a good mental picture...